


The Boy Next Door

by Antigone2



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Just All the Unresolved Tensions, Mutual Pining, Neighbors, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-05-25 06:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14971178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigone2/pseuds/Antigone2
Summary: Usagi gets the taste of the city single life, including staying in a fancy apartment rent free. What could possibly - possibly - go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Irritablevowel for being my beta, soundingboard, coming up with so many hilarious ideas for future chapters (this is gonna be so good yall I s2g) and being my fandom friend. Thanks to Floraone for chatting UsaMamo anytime, anywhere. (by anytime I mean 'when she's around' and by anywhere I mean 'on the tumblr app').
> 
> This is a short chapter, it's actually meant to be a prologue but I realized I hate having prologues because it screws up the chapter numbers and I'm very easily confused
> 
> heh

When Usagi found out her boss - her boss t _he famous manga artist_ (she'd never be over that, to be honest) - had given Usagi the opportunity to stay in her posh Juuban condo for free for seven months while she toured China for inspiration on her next series, Ami had suggested making a list of pros and cons. Ever the optimist, Usagi had insisted there could be literally _no possible downside_ to the arrangement. Minako, having just come off a binge of all the subtitled Sex in the City DVDs available in the little video rental store near her house, was equally aghast that Ami dare to question Usagi's chance to live the single city life so glamorized by television.

"This is a literal dream come true!" Minako had insisted. Usagi had to admit, living in Tawase Yui's apartment for free would be dream enough, plus it gave her time to work on her own secret project - a manga of her own which she'd been fiddling with since high school. She'd put it aside while finishing up the inking work for Tawase's Lonely Kiss, which had just wrapped up its last volume to massive success. It'd been made into an anime, and there were talks of live-action drama, and the royalties had been pouring in. Usagi hadn't seen much of that money, but Tawase was a lovely, almost shy person, and fun to work for, and Usagi didn't begrudge her the success. But oh, it'd be fun to see her _own_ work in the comic book stores she loved to frequent!

Minako continued, "I bet Tawase-sama's apartment is ah-may-zing!"

It was. Really, really nice.

Not too over the top, but clean and spacious with a gorgeous view of the city. The balcony wasn't just for laundry, not with washers AND dryers right downstairs, but big enough to actually go out onto, even put a chair or two. Tawase's furniture was clean and pretty, although things like her bedding and clothing were packed away in storage; Usagi was bringing her own things with her own personal moving service - 4 good friends, paid with cold beer and take-out bento.

"See?" Usagi said out loud, dropping a heavy box on the floor and spreading her arms wide. "No downside!" Well, she missed a Luna bit. Her pet cat had to stay back with her parents and Shingo, although Usagi knew she'd be home plenty to visit - and eat her mom's cooking.

"We got you a present," Minako said later, handing Usagi a pretty bag adorned with colorful tissue paper.

Surprised at how heavy it was, Usagi almost dropped it before she pulled out a fire extinguisher.

"In case you decide to try to cook something," Rei said, smirking a bit.

"Aw," Usagi said. "Thanks... I think."

The kitchen was pretty nice, but Usagi was pretty sure she'd be sticking to take-out. She'd gotten a temp job to help supplement cash flow for things like food and fun stuff, and Monday was her first day. It was just office admin, something she'd done plenty of after high school before landing the job with Tawase, but after so long working doing something she loved, she was nervous about starting an office job again.

After the girls left, Usagi looked around at the mass of boxes and cringed. Although her bedding and toiletries had been set up, there was still quite a bit of unpacking to do, and the smart and responsible thing to do would be to get started on that right away. At least to pull out her clothes for Monday and set up her alarm clock, so she could give herself plenty of extra time to learn the new commute to work.

But! It was Saturday night, and her first night in her new place and she was too excited to stay still. Flitting out of her door, she fingered the now-empty nameplate by her door (she'd have to get one from the building manager, but he was very difficult to get in touch with it seemed), tried out her key a few times, and then rode the elevator to the roof, basement laundry room, and a few other floors, just to wander around.

It was a quiet, clean building and Usagi felt like she'd inherited a palace. In some small part, it was _hers_. Or at least, she could pretend.

She'd written her name in marker on a white sticker, and went to place it above Tawase's on the mailbox in the lobby - temporarily, at least, they'd both be getting mail there. Standing back to admire her handiwork - and the charm of having 'Tsukino Usagi' on her very 'own' mailbox - she blinked for a moment at the box next to hers.

She was 11C, and 11B there was a printed sticker with the kanji 'Chiba Mamoru'.

Usagi hurried back to her apartment as fast as she could.

"There could be plenty of people named Chiba Mamoru," Usagi said to herself, a few moments later, kicking a box slightly across the kitchen floor. "It's not like it's a rare and unusual name." She wasn't even sure the kanji was right. Maybe it said Chijou Ei on that mailbox. How could she know?! She'd failed kanji twice before passing with a C-.

Heck, maybe the mailbox was wrong. Or, maybe 11B wasn't even next to her, or maybe she'd read it wrong or maybe...

It was close to ten o'clock at night, Usagi realized. There was probably no harm in checking the nameplate on the neighboring door, just to see. Just to see if it really was his name.

Not that that even meant it was him, of course.

She opened her door and peered down the hallway, which was quiet on both sides. Someone on the other side, by 11A, had parked a bike. 11D across the way, next to the elevators, had a welcome mat outside their door. 11B had none of those. Quietly, she stepped up to the door, careful to stay away from view of the peephole, just in case.

Sure enough, the nameplate held the same kanji as the mailbox. Usagi went back to her door, not going inside, but leaning against it and looking at the buzzing ceiling lights. There was no way, though. Right? Because honestly, Tokyo was huge. What were the chances?

The elevator dinged, and she looked up, right into his eyes as he stepped off. He still had an hospital ID badge on a lanyard around his neck, she wondered if he realized he'd forgotten to take it off. Otherwise, in his dark blue button-down shirt and slacks he could be anyone off the street. Except for the intensity of his blue eyes. Except for the surprised spark of recognition when he looked at her, recognition she hadn't realized until just then she'd been terrified wouldn't be there.

"Odango Atama?"

 _Dammit, Ami._ Usagi thought. _I found that downside._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Irritablevowel as always, and Floraone too!

Monday saw Usagi in a pencil skirt and blazer combo she hadn't worn since just after high school, but buying a new suit for a temp job wasn't really what she wanted to spend her money on. To Minako's dismay, she even had dug out some suede pumps that were the rage in 1999, but honestly, she couldn't wear her favorite Hello Kitty heels to temp admin at a toner supply company, although they'd be exactly the sort of thing her coworkers at Lonely Kiss would've loved.

But, she did use her favorite strawberry vanilla body spray and unbutton her top button to show off the Tiffany necklace her father had bought her for graduation, because she felt like living in a place like this, you had to pretend a little bit like you were a girl from a TV drama (Minako had definitely pinned Usagi as a "Charlotte", whatever that meant).

Closing the door behind her, Usagi reached up for the strap on the classy, boring handbag she'd borrowed from Ami (again, her real purse had _cat ears,_ but _blah blah_ professionalism) when she realized she'd left it _(and cell phone, bus pass, keys, wallet...)_ sitting on the countertop of the kitchen. "Man!" she muttered, rolling her eyes at herself. Some professional adult.

Turning around, she twisted the knob and froze. Tried again.

"What?" she said out loud, mouth falling open in dismay. It locked automatically?! Oh, no no no no, this was not okay. Doors that locked automatically were not Tsukino Usagi's friend. Neither were doors that didn't, as she'd forget and leave them unlocked all day. Doors in general, really. And keys. Not friends with her.

"That's okay," she murmured to herself, pressing the elevator button about seven times. "I'll just go to the management office and get them to let me in... still plenty of time to get to work..."

"Not open until 10 am!" she practically shouted at the sign on the door of the building office in the lobby. A couple of salarymen on their way to work turned to look at her curiously, but she didn't care. They'd better get used to her, anyway.

Back in the elevator, Usagi was examining a bobby-pin she'd pulled from her hair, wondering how difficult it was to pick a lock. Then, she had an epiphany. Growing up, she'd been known to crawl into a window or two when her mother locked her out - granted, it was ground floor and not eleven stories up (ten, actually, she corrected herself, as the building had no fourth floor) - but the principle was certainly the same...

She stood in front of Chiba Mamoru's door and bit the inside of her cheek. The night before last, when she'd run into him in the hallway, she'd explained her presence in the building and he'd ended the slightly awkward, stilted conversation with "Well... let me know if you need anything..."

He probably hadn't predicted she'd be knocking on his door less than two days later but, Usagi figured, he shouldn't say things if he didn't mean them. As she knocked, she wondered if he'd left already. She guessed he worked weird hours at the hospital, like Ami did, oh god, what if he wasn't home? Then all hope was lost an-

The door opened mid-knock and Usagi realized she had been banging on the door pretty much non-stop while her mind had wandered.

Mamoru was looking at her rather bleary-eyed, in boxers and a white t-shirt, a mug of coffee in his hand. He'd obviously woken up just a little while ago, his hair uncombed and falling into his face and the slightest shadow of stubble on his chin. It wasn't at _all_ attractive, Usagi stubbornly told herself, and didn't make her feel hyper aware of her out-of-style and possibly ill-fitting suit, flushed face and the strands of hair unraveling from the knotted pigtail where she'd pulled out her bobby-pin.

Oh yeah, that was still in her hand.

"I need to come in and use your balcony," Usagi said, slipping off her shoes and shoving the pin back in her hair. She brushed by Mamoru and padded into his place. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, I promise you won't even know I'm here! I'm not here, I'm not here," she said, walking across the living area (Mamoru's floor plan was almost exactly like hers, but flipped).

"Sorry!" she shouted down the small hallway to where she assumed the bedroom was. "In case you had company," she explained, and Mamoru opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but all that came out was a sigh.

"See? It's like I was wasn't even here," she stage-whispered, opening the balcony door and slipping outside.

"Yes, you are uncannily unobtrusive," Mamoru said, following her outside, coffee mug in hand. "Good morning, by the way."

"'Morning!" she said, cheerily. Then looked at him in desperation. "Okay, so, I'm, like, locked out."

"I see."

She turned and looked toward the balcony of her place, which she knew she'd left unlocked, just a few feet away. Okay, maybe about five feet? Definitely less than five feet. The sounds of traffic drifted up from below them, and it suddenly felt a lot more high up than before. Her plan seemed a little bit less feasible now.

But still! She was here. And what choice did she have?

"Odango Atama, what exactly are you planning?"

"I think I can make it." She gestured to her balcony. "If I get it just right-" Usagi stepped back and lifted her hands, as if measuring the distance.

"You want to jump that? You trip over your own two feet on the sidewalk!"

She whirled to glare at him, so suddenly that one errant pigtail slapped him in the face. Good. The high-pitched, offended sound she made was embarrassing enough, she could practically _see_ the smug amusement in his eyes as a corner of his lips turned up. Less than 48 hours in and he's already judging her. Swell.

"Yeah, maybe in middle school," she snapped back, "but I'm an adult now, with grace and poise and I don't trip on sidewalks!" She did, sometimes, but he didn't need to know that.

He quirked an eyebrow. "A graceful and poised adult who locked herself out of her apartment on her second day living there."

Usagi almost stamped her foot, until she remembered she was 22 years old. "Listen, okay," she turned back to her balcony. It didn't seem so far, now. "Maybe you can like, hoist me up by the waist and I can sort of like," she lifted herself on the balls of her feet and mimed throwing herself across.

"You want me to throw you off a balcony."

She pursed her lips at him. He stared blandly back at her, taking a nonchalant sip of his coffee.

"Come on, don't pretend there were times you didn't want to." She grinned cheekily, "Like when my shoe hit you on the head."

"Touché," he said, raising his coffee mug a bit in a mock toast. "But, simple physics says you'll never make it, and it's really not worth the murder charge."

"Manslaughter at most," she muttered, putting one stocking foot on the lowest of balcony rails, just experimentally, before she suddenly felt a strong and way-too-warm hand on her waist.

"Get down from there, idiot." One hand still wrapped around the mug, Mamoru pulled on her slightly with his other arm, and she stumbled back until both feet were back on the balcony floor. For a moment she hit his back, heard the sloshing of his coffee and a harsh intake of breath. He pulled his hand back quickly - too quickly, she barely had time to steady herself enough.

Red-faced and feeling like a scolded child, all Usagi could do was turn to glare up into Mamoru's unreadable expression. "I wasn't _actually_ gonna -"

He cut her off with a shake of his head, walking back into his apartment, leaving Usagi to groan loudly and follow him with loud, stompy steps. In hindsight, the balcony idea had been pretty stupid. But, she didn't want to be late to work on her first day! What a way to set up a pattern! Ugh!

She looked at Mamoru, who was dispassionately opening a kitchen drawer.

She supposed it was nice of him to let her in at all, although they did have a history (of bickering on the street) and a mutual friend (good ol' Motoki) and she knew Mamoru was _capable_ of being a nice guy. That is, when he wasn't looking at Usagi like she was some sort of never-ending source of amusement. She'd always assumed he just _knew_ how good-looking he was, how desirable, how accomplished - and next to him Usagi must've seemed like a hot mess of a clumsy girl who laughed too loudly and failed too much. She didn't like that feeling, and it only served to make her defensive. Which of course, only seemed to amuse him further.

In high school, she was attempting to turn over a new leaf - (and did, in fact, end up graduating on time with barely passing grades - and thanks to manga club, she even found out she could turn her mindless doodling into something worth a darn) - and doing so under the perceived scrutiny of Mamoru's intense blue eyes was too much. She'd started avoiding him like it was her job to do so, and if her immediate lowered stress level had seemed too much like sadness, oh well. She always was a bit of an emotional mess. And Mamoru was just... just always so... so _unaffected_ by her. It wasn't fair!

"You changed the locks when you moved in, right?" Mamoru asked, and Usagi blinked up at him, startled from her reverie.

"Uh..."

"I figured you didn't," he said. "You should. Even though you are living there temporarily, it's good practice. I'm sure Ms. Tawase expects you to."

Condescending, much? "Okay, dad," she muttered, and he rolled his eyes slightly.

"Come on," he gestured toward his door and she wrinkled her brow in confusion.

"I have a spare key," he supplied, while leaning down to put on his shoes at the doorway, "I would water Ms. Tawase's plants sometimes when she'd be out of town."

Usagi gasped in delight at the small metal miracle in Mamoru's hand. He hadn't even completely stood up when she launched herself at him and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Mamoru! You saved my life! Oh my god!" She squeezed him for a second before releasing him, not at _all_ noticing the slim, muscular build of his waist, nor breathing in the soft, sleepy scent of just-woken-up boy mixed with dark roast coffee. Not at all grateful she'd thought to use her favorite perfume that morning. None of that even entered her mind. Not for a second.

For a moment he just looked at her, nonplussed. But Usagi prattled on, "And to think, if I _had_ changed my locks, we'd be _so_ out of luck right now!" She grinned triumphantly as she slipped on her shoes and practically skipped the few steps to her door.

"Th- That's exactly why you should change them! Who knows who else she gave keys to!"

Usagi paid his lecture no mind, clapping her hands as he unlocked her apartment door and swung it open with a bit of a flourish. "Yey!" She jumped up and down a bit, beaming up at him. "Thank you!"

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. "Change your locks, Odango Atama."

"And I'll give you a spare key when I do!" she exclaimed. "I'm sure I'll always be locking myself out."

"Lucky me," he deadpanned. Usagi couldn't even be upset at his sarcasm, she was just so relieved to grab her purse, cell phone, bus pass and make it out of there with enough time to make it in and she didn't even need to jump the balcony and...

wait.

"MAMORU-BAKA!"

She marched right back out and caught him just as he was about to close his door. "You let me waste all that time plotting a death-defying jump when you had a spare key that _entire time_?!" The offended squeak was back in her voice. Dammit.

"Odan-"

"I take back my hug!" She said, poking him in the chest with her finger on every word. Then, flinging around so fast Mamoru got a face full of hair for the second time that morning, she marched to elevator in a blaze of self-righteous indignation and only realized when she was arriving to work (mercifully on time) that she'd been so busy being angry at Mamoru that she'd forgotten to be nervous about her first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha poor Mamoru. He thought he had this perfect, quiet little apartment and then boom! Tsukino Usagi moves in next door and the the boy is a goner, done, over, RIP, goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all your reviews and feedback and favorites and kudos tumblr reblogs and everything! I'm really happy at the response this fic is getting because it's been a treat to write and share it with you all!
> 
> Thank you to my beta Irritablevowel - who you know from her amazingly complex and beautiful magnum opus Phantom - who also now is writing this hilarious crack fic that snaps with cleverness and silliness and you NEED to go read it right now (I'll wait) called Flower Power so check that out.
> 
> And thanks to Floraone as well for somehow getting me to send her advance copies of chapters and pointing out typos so you readers don't have to!

Makoto worked at a local pastry shop, and the girls converged upon it whenever they could.

"Did you know," Usagi said as Makoto delivered the strawberry shortcake she ordered to her table, "that Tawase-sensei owns a karaoke machine?"

"No!" Makoto gasped. "I thought you said she was so shy and reserved?"

Usagi shrugged, still grinning. "Right? But I found it in the closet the other day. And honestly, if I made the big manga artist cash that'd be on the first things I'd buy too."

"Hey, Minako?" Makoto said, as the blonde bubbled into the cafe with the newest Starbucks drink in tow. "Did you know Usagi has a karaoke machine at her place?"

Minako slammed her drink down on the table with open mouthed surprise. Then she snapped her glossed lips closed and gave Usagi a no-nonsense expression. "We are inviting over everyone we know."

Usagi talked Minako down to Ami, Rei and Makoto, of course, plus Naru and Umino, the Furuhata siblings, and Reika. And Mamoru. Considering that he lived next door ("less likely to complain about the noise if he's there drinking beers too, right?" Minako pointed out), and he was still good friends with Motoki. Plus, it'd be unforgivingly rude for Usagi to throw a big party without inviting him, she figured. So she let Motoki extend an invitation to Mamoru, letting him know he could stop by if he wanted to.

But she doubted he'd want to come, parties weren't his thing, and he'd probably be working, and honestly, it was just going to be karaoke and alcohol and fattening foods and like, as far as she knew Mamoru was into exactly zero of those things.

Which meant it was very silly of her to spend all afternoon picking her outfit. Not that it wouldn't be ridiculous anyway, she reminded herself. To agonize over dressing up for Mamoru of all people. But that damn man always managed to see her at her absolute worst!

There was the first day she moved in, of course, all sweaty and tired from lifting boxes all day. Then, the morning she locked herself out, in her ugly suit, when Mamoru was about to let her jump off the balcony to certain death before _finally_ telling her he had a spare key. (Jerk).

After that, she'd run into him while leaving the elevator one night. He was on his way to an evening shift - dressed in work clothes, polished and Mamoru-y, and she was in her pajama shorts, carrying a basket of just-washed laundry, hair down and shower-damp, drying in little sticky-up tendrils every which way, and of course she was wearing bright pink flip-flops.

He'd greeted her with a very polite, "Good evening," to which she had responded something like, "Heeeey... there...," around the key chain she was holding in her mouth. And then she audibly flip-flop-flip-flop'ed to her door with all the dignity she could muster.

Then there was that day she chased a bug out through the balcony and shouted at it to "stay out" through a mouthful of popcorn. Mamoru was sitting on his balcony, obstinately reading a book, and the lack of effort he put into pretending his laugh was actually a cough was, frankly, insulting.

Usagi eyed a denim mini skirt critically, and then tossed it aside and flopped on her bed in frustration. Why did she care so much what he thought, anyway? Better she just dress up for her friends and the party, and for herself, and just have a good time, whether or not her former childhood tormentor turned next-door neighbor showed up!

And he did, surprisingly, show up.

Hands in his pockets, trailing Motoki and Unazuki, who both entered with the usual Furuhata enthusiasm, Unazuki pulling Usagi into a tight hug and then exclaiming over the pink micromini tank dress she'd (finally) chosen to wear, "You look sooo cute! Wish redheads could pull of that color of pink! Where's the beer?!"

Usagi played hostess as best she could, offering Mamoru some food (he declined), beer (he accepted), a seat (graciously waving her arm toward the sofa where a few people were gathering around the karaoke machine set up), for some reason babbling like she was at a job interview. "I mean, it's just a small get together of friends, nothing too wild, I wouldn't do that in Tawase-sensei's apartment or anything, and we won't be loud it's just karaoke... I think Rei is picking a song now..."

She was distracted by the buzzer, and Minako bringing a few more people than she said she would ("What?! They are just friends from work!") and soon the party was in full swing. Usagi was in her element, surrounded by friends and more than slightly buzzed.

Minako and Rei were semi-hogging the mic, but almost everyone got a chance, and Usagi made sure to work in some group songs. She even got Motoki and Unazuki to do a duet.

Usagi, for her solos, liked the ones where she could bounce. For example, she killed Morning Musume's "Love Machine".

"Love, love, love machine!" she sang, the microphone in one hand and her other arm up waving up over her head, "Love, love, love station! Woah, woah, woah, woah!" She jumped with every beat, enjoying the feel of her skirt swirling around her upper thighs and the whip of her hair as she tossed her head. It was fun to be in front of people she knew and liked, a little drunk, very happy, with the city of Tokyo sprawled out in the lights as her backdrop.

Well, Rei would say she murdered it. But she felt like she killed it, and the whooping cheers lead by Minako certainly helped fuel her confidence. That and the three or four beers she'd drank.

Mamoru had been watching her performance from where he'd been leaning against the kitchen island, one hand in his pocket still the other holding a beer, when Usagi decided she'd definitely had enough alcohol to attempt to pull him out of his shell a bit - or at least attempt to get him to sing.

She walked up behind Motoki, tilting her head with pursed lips. "So," Motoki was saying to Mamoru, "I take it from the look on your face during her song, that you still-"

Spotting her, Mamoru coughed loudly, interrupting his friend with a glare.

"Still what?" Usagi asked, tilting her head.

"What?" Motoki asked, blinking in surprise at the small blonde suddenly at his arm.

"You were saying Mamoru still something. What? I wanna knooooooow." Usagi asked, still bouncing a little still while humming LOVE Machine even while Minako had already started a slow love ballad to some guy she brought that she had a crush on.

"I, uh, forgot what I was saying," Motoki said, opening a beer and handing it to her, hoping to distract her into changing the subject.

"'Cause I'm so cute I distracted you?" Usagi asked him, wrinkling her nose with an exaggerated understanding 'happens all the time' expression.

"Yeah," he admitted, clinking beer bottles with her. "It's true."

Usagi turned her million dollar smile to Mamoru, "You are the only one here who hasn't sung a song yet."

"Observant as always, Odango Atama."

"Sing!" she said, taking two or three steps until she stood right by his elbow. Was he taller than she remembered?

"Mmm, I'll pass," he said, after pretending to consider for a bit. "I think your friends have it covered nicely."

"C'moooon!" she pleaded, pulling on his arm a little drunkenly. "It's my party! Pleeease?!"

He gave her a half-smile that Usagi thought actually seemed sincere and not mocking - she chalked it up to her sarcasm-senses being dulled by alcohol - and pressed one finger to her nose, just for a moment. "Now, how could I follow that amazing "Love Country" performance?"

"It's "Love _Machine"_ ," Usagi corrected, pouting. "Sing!"

"No," he said.

"Come on," Motoki joined in, laughing. "Sing, Mamoru."

" _No_."

"Don't make me get Unazuki over here," Motoki said, winking at Usagi.

"Usagggiiii!" Minako waved her over. "Let's do another one! I wanna dance!"

"Better make sure she doesn't start dancing on furniture," Rei said from the sofa, rolling her eyes. The priestess had stayed fairly sober, as she usually did, for no other reason than to lord the other girls' drunk shenanigans over them the next morning.

"Heh heh," Usagi muttered. "Excuse me, I have to make sure Minako keeps her clothes on..."

She'd just turned around from getting Makoto and Minako set up with a Utada Hikaru song to see Mamoru heading out.

"Is he leaving?" she asked, Motoki, distressed.

Before he could answer, she'd found herself stumbling out into the hallway after her neighbor.

She'd failed again. Tried to throw a party, and he'd found it boring and probably foolish. Then she'd pressured him to sing and made him leave.

Why could she effortlessly navigate every relationship in her life, except this one stuck-up, stubborn, inscrutable, gorgeous man?

And why did it _matter so much to her_?

She caught up to Mamoru in his doorway, and when she caught his arm and the walls spun around her, she realized she was much, much drunker than she had thought she was.

"Woah there," he caught her deftly, steading her on her feet. She clutched his arms, shutting her eyes.

"Sorry," she mumbled. She leaned her forehead on his chest, staring at the buttons on his shirt. "I didn't mean to force you to sing." The buttons moved a bit, maybe in a laugh.

"I just have an early morning tomorrow, that's all."

She touched one button, blinked and there were two, then one again. She pulled at it, spinning it in her fingers. The buttons froze. "I wish you knew I could be, like, ya know," she slurred a little. The button came out of its hole. "Not a mess. Sometimes."

A warm hand curled around hers. "Usagi, you're drunk."

She was. Super drunk. She let her head drift against his chest. He smelled really good. Had she noticed that before? How good he smelled? Did she say that out loud?

"I tried to be pretty tonight," she mumbled. "So you knew I wasn't always in flop- lop - lop-flops. Flip-lips. Fil- ugh."

"Okay, let's get you home."

"I am home," she said, annoyed.

"Odango Atama, you actually live in the other apartment, though, is the thing," his voice was amused again, and she felt a flash of anger but it was quenched quickly by sleepiness and drunkenness and the fact that he smelled so good.

Stupid boy. I hate you, she thought.

"I know," he murmured, and she realized she again had spoken out loud.

"On a scale of one to ten," she said, flopping her head a bit to look up at him, "on a scale of one being like, some girl in pjs in the ele-ele-gator looking like hell and ten being like... the sexiest most beautifulest person ever who you ever saw and like ruins all women for you for life, tell me I at least hit a like... seven ..."

He was walking her to her place as she babbled, her mind screaming at her to stop, to shut up, but unable to stop her mouth from moving.

"A six even," she said as Mamoru handed her over to Makoto and Motoki, with instructions to cut her off for the night, and make sure she drank lots of water and to Ami to double check she had ibuprofen in her medicine cabinet for the next morning. "A five?!"

"TELL ME MY NUMBER MAMORU!" she screeched, finally, from Makoto's arms.

"Fifteen. Goodnight, Usagi."

Fifteen.

That sarcastic bastard.

"YOU JERK, MAMORU-BAKA! AND I WAS NICE TO YOU!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the positive feedback! I hope you enjoy this next chapter as well.
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Irritablevowel, as always, and to Floraone as well!

****

"Tsukino Usagi, how does it feel to be nominated for the Best New Manga Artist award for your amazingly popular debut, Forbidden Love?"

"It's a dream come true" she gushed, holding the newly released bound copy of her manga in her hands for the first time.

_Chirp_

Then, she was pushing it onto a bookshelf in a bookstore, while Ami told her to buy studyguides, not manga.

"If you want to pass your entrance exam!"

_Chirp_

"Entrance exam? But I'm a famous manga artist!"

_Chirp_

Usagi stirred, pulling her pillow over her head. "Five more minutes, mom!" she mumbled, slapping her alarm clock.

_Chirp!_

Blearily, she opened her eyes, blinking in the darkness. The clock by her bed proclaimed it to be just past midnight, and the chirping sound - piercing, obnoxious, not-to-be-ignored, seemed to becoming from the kitchen.

"What the...," stumbling out of her bedsheets and into the kitchen, Usagi squinted up at the blinking red light on the kitchen smoke alarm, flashing in time with each ear-splitting chirp.

"Hey," she hissed at it. "Hey, stop doing that!" She grabbed a broom and poked at it. "There's no smoke here! Stop it!"

_Chirp!_

"Uggghhh," she said, hauling one of her kitchen chairs to the spot below the device and standing up on it. She was still a good foot lower than she needed to be, even reaching with all her height. "Darn rich people and their darn high ceilings," she muttered.

_Chirp!_

The desk chair! That was adjustable! Rolling it over from her desk in the corner of the living room, she spun the chair on it's base until it was at its highest adjusted height. "Perfect!" She climbed on the padded seat, wiggling a little as the wheels shifted on the tile kitchen floor, and reached up again. Her fingers barely brushed the stupid thing (and the chirping was much louder and more obnoxious this close) but she could read the sticker on it. "Steady, infrequent beeps - Replace battery."

"UGH," Usagi said. "FINE!"

She'd managed to locate the batteries, get back to the kitchen, load the desk chair up with some books and pillows until she was tall enough to unscrew the circular alarm and pull out the dead battery, clicking the new one in.

Blessed silence.

Then...

_Chirp!_

"Oh for cripes' sake," Usagi muttered, scanning the device's instructions as best she could at her angle, while teetering precariously on the chair tower she'd made herself. "After replacing battery, press 'test'. Okay..."

_WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP_

The deafening alarm that came from the device startled her so much she instinctively recoiled, and in doing so tumbled off the chair onto the hard kitchen floor with a shower of books, pillows, and a sideways chair. She cried out as a pain shot up her ankle.

The alarm was still screeching above her, and from the floor she grabbed the broom and tried in vain to poke it with the handle. "Shut up!" she yelled at it, "people are _sleeping_!"

"Well, not anymore."

The unexpected voice behind her made her gasp and fling the handle around as a weapon, but Mamoru caught it easily, (nice reflexes, Usagi couldn't help thinking,) and then, pulling up a (non-wheeled) kitchen chair, stood up on it and easily reached high enough to hit the "All clear" button on the alarm.

The quiet fell so suddenly that Usagi's ears protested by ringing loudly. "Oh, look who can actually _reach things_ ," she muttered. "Show off."

"Are you okay?" he squatted down beside her, and she nodded and made to stand up.

Then, wincing, sat back down again. "I think I hurt my ankle."

She saw Mamoru eye the toppled desk chair, pillow, book arrangement that she'd made to stand on, and since he was so close, she could definitely see his eyelid twich a little bit.

"Don't say a thing," she snapped. "And that spare key is in case I got locked out! Not just to wander in here whenever you hear-"

"A crash, a scream and an alarm?" he asked, and she glared. "Come on, let's get that ankle looked at." He held out his arm and she pulled herself up, and then startled in surprise when he lifted her completely in his arms, bridal style.

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and tried not to think about the fact that her pajama bottoms were shorts and so his hands were on the back of her bare knees, or that her breath was moving the small hairs right against his neck and ear. She thought she felt a slight shudder through his body, and she held her breath so as not to annoy him further.

"If you come barging in here every time you hear a crash, you might as well never leave," she said, as he deposited her on the sofa. "I'm Usagi, remember?"

He gave a crooked smile in response, but didn't argue, kneeling down in front of her and lifting up her injured leg. She grit her teeth and looked at the ceiling. The pain was getting better, but Mamoru's fingers on her foot and ankle- warm, gentle and extremely respectful as they were - sent a flood of warmth through her regardless. "Sorry if I woke you, or whatever," she mumbled, not looking at him.

"You didn't." He was dressed in a shirt and slacks, not pajamas, although he wasn't wearing shoes and his shirt's top few buttons were undone. "I'd gotten home from work about an hour ago. Just unwinding a bit before bed."

"I'm sure this was soooo relaxing for you."

And he did smile then, even as his eyes didn't leave her injury, as he pressed the area with his fingers and moved her foot experimentally. "Does this hurt?"

"Not really," she mumbled. "It's feeling better."

He nodded, "It's not that swollen, and doesn't seem like a break or a sprain, but I'm going to have you elevate it for now, and if it still hurts tomorrow go to a clinic, okay?"

"Okay," she mumbled, tugging on her pink tank top. His eyes flitted to her pajamas for a moment and she waited for a snide comment. They were probably pretty childish, but she couldn't help buying the pink tank and shorts set because it had a little bunny inside a moon and her name translated into English (Bunny in the Moon) in the corner. At least they were clean. And matching. She supposed it could be worse. He hadn't mocked her about them at least, although he did blush a little and look away, which made her realize that the fabric was on the thin side. (What did he want? It was summer!)

Mamoru got up, but rather than leave, which she expected, he went to the freezer and got her an ice pack for her ankle, helping her elevate it on one of the throw pillows on top of the coffee table. Then, he began to clean up the fallen things in the kitchen.

The throbbing in her ankle had almost completely disappeared, and she felt only the sharp cold of the ice pack and softness of the dishtowel it was wrapped in, and it was much less pleasant than Mamoru's previous examination.

"Thank you," Usagi found herself obligated to say. "Doctor Mamoru," she couldn't help throwing in as a tease, and he grinned back at her.

After a few minutes, he stood before her a bit awkwardly, and she met his eyes with a questioning glance. He ran his hand through his hair. "Did you want me to help you get... uh, back to... bed?"

"Oh," she looked at her foot up on the table. She was feeling pretty awake now, actually. "I might stay up and watch some TV or something for a while. I'll hobble back to bed myself eventually."

"Okay," he shrugged slightly, hands in his pockets again. He glanced around the apartment once more. "Anything you need me to do while I'm here? Grab you a drink or something?"

"Do... you want to get one too, and watch TV with me?" she found herself offering, before she even realized what she was doing. "I know it's really late but..."

But that's how Chiba Mamoru ended up sitting next to her on Tawase Yui's sofa, sipping cola out of the bottle, watching old variety shows at one in the morning.

"Mamoru?" Usagi asked, "Am I, like, the worst neighbor ever?" She leaned her head back against the cushions, noticing her hair was spilling a bit over Mamoru's arm but not caring enough to move.

"No," he answered almost right away. "11A is worse."

"11A?" Usagi seemed surprised. She'd seen him before, a college-aged kid with a jock-like haircut. Not terrible to look at. "Why? What does he do?"

Mamoru took a sip of his soda, still looking at the television.

"Mamoru!" she shifted slightly, almost forgetting her bum ankle, facing Mamoru more completely with total interest. "Why is he worse?! Tell me!"

"He's ... loud," he said finally.

Usagi laughed. "Louder than me setting off alarms at one am?"

"A different type of loud," he said.

"Like what do you mean? Does he play drums? Sing opera? Tap dance?" she considered how 11A always seemed to be on his way to the gym when she saw him. "Does he, like, work out at home and grunt super loudly?"

"Close."

"MAMORU! TELL ME!" She found herself laughing, pushing her fridge-cold soda bottle against his neck, making him cringe away in mock-annoyance.

"When he... entertains," Mamoru emphasized the word with amusement, "in his bedroom - which, by the by, backs right up against my living room - it doesn't leave much to the imagination."

"Wait. 11A? Bicycle guy?" Usagi squealed. "Has super loud sex?!"

Mamoru was taking a sip of his soda and almost choked when Usagi just shouted out the words he'd been careful to dance around. He looked at her in awed amusement and then his shoulders shook in held in laughter. "Well, his guests certainly do."

"Same girl?" Usagi asked, leaning in with delight written all over her face, "Or different ones?"

"I have no idea," Mamoru said, primly, pretending to be very interested in a girl dancing to ambient music in a whale costume on TV.

Usagi grinned around the lip of her soda bottle. "Yes you do," she said, poking at him.

"Different girls," he admitted, grudgingly. "I think. But they all seem to _really,_ uh. Enjoy themselves." The tips of his ears were red.

"Wow," she said, sitting back down against the sofa. "Good for them." She sat up a little and held out her bottle. "To Bicycle Guy," she toasted.

"To Bicycle Guy," Mamoru said.

They clinked bottles.

"And his dates," Usagi added. "And his poor, suffering next-door neighbor."

"Who should really invest in some earplugs," Mamoru added.

"But then how will you hear my screams for help next time I really do accidentally start a fire?" Usagi mused, and Mamoru turned to her with such wide eyes that she had to (while giggling) assure him she was joking.

"You know what you should do," Usagi said, "just have loud sex right back! Show him!"

"My bedroom goes up against _your_ living room wall, Odango Atama. Not his."

She was struck silent.

"Don't worry," he said, lightly. "I don't have many dates."

"Well," she cleared her throat a little, suddenly it was feeling dry, despite all the cola she was downing, "if you do, put a sock on the doorknob or something and I'll know to stay with my parents that night."

"I will consider it a personal favor to you, Odango Atama."

"And... and... _I'll_ consider a personal favor to not ask you to introduce me to Bicycle Guy." Satisfied that she'd horrified _him_ into silence this time, she reached over his shoulder and turned the channel on the remote.

"Is anything better on?" she mused. "Like a movie or something?"

An old J-Drama Usagi liked was marathoning on NHK2 and before she knew it was dozing off against the soft cushions on the back of the sofa.

"Mmm," she stirred and pushed herself up, turning off the TV and pulling her leg down from the table. Rolling her ankle a few times, she noted it felt a lot better.

Next to her, Mamoru's eyes were closed, his head turned toward her and resting on his arm braced against the back cushions. For a moment she paused and just looked at him, resisting the urge to brush those soft-looking bangs out of his eyes. His face looked so much softer when he was asleep.

"Mamoru-baka," she murmured, leaning forward a bit.

"Hmm?" He stirred just slightly, and she didn't know if he was really awake or not. Well, maybe that was better.

"I don't really hate you, you know."

"Thanks," he mumbled, shifting deeper into the sofa cushions.

"You are supposed to say it _back_ , you know!" Usagi huffed. Shifting over, she gently pulled on his arm, cradling his head in her arm and lowering it onto a pillow. His hair was silky soft on her arm.

"I don't really hate you, too." He murmured back, not opening his eyes, and as she lifted a blanket over him, he ran his fingertips down her arm. Usagi froze, watching as he slowly trailed his hand along the inside of her elbow. Goosebumps rose on her skin. When he'd been examining her ankle, he was clinical and serious, but this touch now was completely different. It was slow, soft, the pads of his fingers lingering along her skin as if reveling in luxury. When he got to her wrist, his thumb made a little circle around her pulse point and a shiver when down Usagi's spine.

It was nothing. It his hand moving when he was half-asleep and it happened to brush her arm. It was stupid for her to feel tingly all over as she walked back to her room.

It was even stupider of her to dream of his touch all night.

* * *

The next morning Mamoru awoke with a start, almost falling off the sofa.

"Sorry," Usagi called from the kitchen, "I just didn't want to wake you. Is it okay? You said you had the day off today so I hoped it'd be okay..."

He swallowed, hand pushing through his hair. "Was I talking in my sleep?" he asked. "Or anything like that?"

Usagi frowned, shaking her head. "No, not that I heard. I'm usually the one that talks in my sleep," she laughed. "Once on vacation my brother said I woke him up and ordered an ice cream sundae."

Mamoru nodded, releasing a breath. He looked around at the blanket Usagi had laid over him, and the abandoned ice-pack, sweating condensation onto the coffee table.

"Why, afraid you were spilling state secrets?" Usagi said, leaning on the countertop and watching him blearily rub his hand over his face. His shirt was wrinkled and his hair was messy and it was nice to see him looking a bit ruffled up for once - even if Usagi was the cause.

"Something like that," he said, a hint of red coming into his cheeks. He shifted the blankets around him for a moment. "How's your ankle?"

"All better!" Usagi said. "Nothing that a good night's sleep won't-"

Suddenly the _WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP_ of the alarm started up again, and Usagi realized the pancakes she'd left on the stovetop when Mamoru woke up were starting to burn, and the oil that'd dripped around the edge of the pan had started to lick with flame.

Usagi ran to Minako's fire extinguisher and lifted it awkwardly, looking for the pin. Suddenly strong arms wrapped around behind her, and helped her aim the thick powder at the base of the small fire, which was soon buried under a mound of white - Tawase-sensei's kitchen seemingly no worse for the wear. The smoke still hung in the air and the loud _WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP_ echoed through Usagi's brain.

For a moment she didn't move, just stayed where she was, encircled in Mamoru's arms, fire extinguisher gripped in both their hands. Then, she let her head fall back against his chest, and looked up into his wide blue eyes.

"Well," she said. "The smoke alarm works."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is my first and very real attempt at a true slow burn. but it's kinda fun! Thanks so much all the feedback and I'm glad you guys are enjoying these shenanigans as much as I am.
> 
> TY as always to IV and FO.

Usagi was in an extremely bad mood for a Friday evening. Her stupid temp job seemed more tedious than ever, and the beginnings of a headache was pulsing behind her eyes. Her plans for the weekend had been to really buckle down and work on her manga, but all she could think about was sleeping the entire weekend away.

It must've been a hard week, because by the time she dragged herself to the elevator in her building, she felt a bit like she'd been hit by a bus. She got in before the doors closed, mumbling, "Eleven please," before leaning gratefully against the wall.

The woman in the elevator with her was gorgeous, with long chestnut hair and a slinky, expensive-looking dress. She was made-up beautifully and obviously ready for a night on the town. Maybe a fancy dinner. The very thought of food made Usagi's stomach hitch, which was unusual. She swallowed against the sudden scratchiness in her throat.

"You look really pretty," she said, hoarsely.

"Oh, thank you!" the woman said. "I'm going to the opera tonight, with a colleague of mine. It's been planned for months, tickets sold out so quickly."

Tickets to the opera sold out quickly? Usagi thought blearily. "Have a good time?" she said. Usagi loved classical music concerts, especially when performed by her friend Michiru, but she'd never been to a western opera. Kabuki could be cool, if she was in the right mood, but Noh was a little much for her to sit through. She wondered what the opera was like. Although, right now all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and never come out. Her throat was starting to kill her. Was the air in the elevator that dry?

The woman was talking, Usagi realized, about her date tonight. Usagi was usually a better listener, but everything the woman was saying seemed to be coming at her through water. "... and so I'm really hoping tonight turns into something more, I'm sick of dancing around it. He can't stay single forever! And I feel like we are a perfect match." Usagi tried to nod at the right times.

When the elevator opened on her floor, she was surprised to see the woman exit as well.

Usagi usually spent a while outside her door, fumbling for her key, humming to herself, dropping and picking up whatever she was attempting to carry in her arms (her purse, shopping bags, dinner, impulse buys of various pastries...), but when, to her shock, the woman from the elevator knocked on apartment 11B, Usagi found herself speed-unlocking her door and slamming it closed like she was being chased by a pack of rabid wolves.

The HELL she was going to witness Mamoru answering the door for his date while she felt (and looked, she was sure) like death warmed over.

Collapsing against the back of the door, her stuff spilled around her in her dive-bombing entrance, Usagi leaned her head against the door in annoyance. Through the walls, or the door, or whatever paper-thin material the building was made of, Usagi heard the smooth baritone of Mamoru's voice and the lilt of the woman's in conversation, as they moved into his place and the door shut behind them.

She tried to remember what the lady was babbling about in the elevator (and she wasn't _that_ pretty, and her hair wasn't _that_ shiny, and Minako could do a much better eyeliner job), about how she thought this coworker of hers (who Usagi now realized must be Mamoru) was _so handsome_ and how he'd held off on dating at work but that she was pretty sure he _had_ to have a thing for her since _all the other doctors did._ Usagi usually didn't dislike people, but something about this girl was starting to deeply bug her. Or maybe it was the dizzying sway of the room.

 _Mamoru-baka was supposed to warn me if he had a date!_ she fumed. It was way too late to head to her parents' now. Not that she thought she could manage a trip across the ward now, considering she could barely struggle to her feet. Yes, she was definitely sick, Usagi thought with dawning realization. And she hadn't even worn a face mask on the subway. Oops.

Struggling to her feet, Usagi made her way to the bathroom for some acetaminophen or something, realized with a start the medicine cabinet was empty. "Who doesn't have Tylenol?!" she moaned out loud. Obviously, Tawase-sensei hadn't thought to leave Usagi stocked with over-the-counter fever reducers, and Usagi hadn't thought to stock up. And now she had to go out and find the nearest pharmacy on Friday night when she felt like dying.

Well, heck if she was going to run into the happy couple in the hallway. At least, that's what she told herself as she was holding a glass up to the wall of her living room, attempting to hear if Mamoru and that woman were still in his apartment or had left yet. She remembered him saying his bedroom went up to her living room, and they didn't seem to be in there (yet, she thought, gagging) but she thought she could hear some murmuring and movement from deeper in the apartment.

"C'mooooon idiots," she murmured. "Don't you have a curtain time or something?" She felt herself getting weaker by the second, and wondered if she should just give up on medicine and just collapse in bed. Finally, she heard the door open and close, and although her peephole was useless (showing only the small area right in front of her door), she pressed the glass to her door and heard the elevator open and close. _About time!_ she thought, flinging the door open and directly into the stares of Mamoru - who cleaned up really nice, actually, and she hated that she noticed that- and the woman next to him as they waited for the elevator going down.

"Are you kidding me?!" she said, or thought she said, through the burning in her throat. She may not have actually gotten the words out before everything went white. She remembered falling, but never hit the ground.

It was sort of a blur after that. Cool sheets and an unfamiliar pillow, and a murmur of conversation swirling around her: A very annoyed tone that made her brows knit in stress, someone sounded angry, then a more familiar voice in a placating tone following it.

"... planned for so long!..."

"It's just that..."

"You are a doctor, you know it's not anything serious..."

"... can't just leave her..."

"...call someone..."

Then a sigh. "Ayaka-san, she's my friend."

Usagi heard a sound she'd heard a million times before, a sound she'd made herself many times. That uniquely female, very knowing half-tsk, half-sigh. "Right," the voice - Ayaka? -said. "Your friend. Of course." The voice suddenly didn't seem angry anymore, and Usagi thought she heard a door open and close.

And then someone was handing her water and pills and she tried to choke them down before sleep took her once again.

When she woke, it felt like years later. The room was dark, the city noises that had surrounded her since childhood told her it was nighttime. She wiped drool from her face, and rubbed her eyes. She felt a little bit better.

This was also not her room.

Not at her home at her parents' house nor at Tawase-sensei's apartment. It was exactly like her bedroom at Tawase's, large bay windows overlooking the city, sliding closet door to her left, but the large bed sheets were silky, not cotton, and white not pink. Cringing, she remembered what happened and that she must be at Mamoru's apartment, although god knew why he didn't just drop her off on her own sofa and go on his hot date.

She grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and blew her nose loudly. There was a glass of water next to it and she wondered for a moment if it was meant for her, then decided she didn't care and downed it in two gulps, although her throat burned in protest.

The door opened, and Mamoru entered almost silently, socks on the plush carpet not making a sound. "You're awake." It was a needless observation. He was still in his suit, sans jacket, bowtie undone along with the first few buttons on his shirt.

 _He looks delicious_. _Wait, what?_ That must be the fever talking. It didn't even make sense. But looking at him, dressed up and disheveled, in the dim light, Usagi felt a little like she did when presented with a giant chocolate sundae.

Only thinking about food suddenly made her feel ill again.

"Why am I ... What... why...?" she cringed down into the (admittedly, amazingly soft) gray comforter, glad the fever was a good excuse for the flush on her face. She settled on: "What time is it?"

"It's 10:30. You fainted in the hallway," Mamoru said. "And your door locked behind you. I brought you here rather than try to dig out the key and carry you back into your place."

He stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting the back of his hand on her head, checking her fever. His eyes were gentle, but clinical, just like when he was examining her ankle. "I hope that's okay. You were pretty out of it."

"Thank you," she said. She felt tears build behind her eyes. "I didn't have any medicine," she tried to explain, and somehow her voice ended up breaking into a sob. She scrunched down further into herself, crossing her arms tighter around herself after swiping at her tears frustratingly with her palm. "I'm so sorry I ruined your night!"

"Are you okay? Does your head hurt that much?" He brushed his hand across her forehead, gently pushing sweaty bangs from her eyes. The gesture was so tender, so incredibly caring, that two more hot tears escaped her eyes and burned down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Mamoru's voice was so gentle, she'd never heard him speak like that before - sure, he'd been relatively nice to her in the past - every so often - between the lectures and the sarcasm and the smirking-, but now she realized why he probably made a good doctor. Sniffling, she nodded, still not meeting his eyes.

"No, I'm okay," she said. "It doesn't even really hurt it's just -," God, she felt like such a baby. "It's kinda... nice to be taken care of, ya know?" her voice broke at the end. It felt stupid to be homesick when home was, like, a ten minutes subway ride away - if that - but her mom had always been there when she'd been sick before. "Sorry, it's stupid."

She rolled her eyes at his sympathetic look, an act which made one lone tear fall down her cheek. "Could you, like, make fun of me or _something_?" She hit his arm, weakly. "Or at least yell at me for ruining your date?"

"Now, what kind of doctor would I be if I made it a habit to mock the deathly ill?" he said, and she was gratified to see that familiar smirk was back, even as he took the pulse in her wrist.

"A bad one," Usagi quipped. He put her hand down on the bed, gently. "Won't _you_ get sick now, though?" she curled her hand back, and scooted back from him.

He shrugged. "I doubt it. I've been careful about washing my hands and I'll change the sheets. I'm sure I've been exposed to worse at work."

"Gross." She paused. "Well, I guess fools don't catch colds so."

He shook his head, almost laughing. "Get some rest, Usagi." He reached out, hesitated for a moment, then patted her head softly.

"Where will you sleep?" She sat up, wincing as pain shot through her head at the movement. "I can go back to my place, you've already-"

"I'll sleep on the sofa. It's fine."

She wrinkled her nose. "You always end up sleeping on the sofa when I'm around. My sofa, your sofa..."

He disappeared down the hall and she called after him, "Do I get promoted to worst neighbor?" shouting at that volume made her cough through the last word, and Mamoru sighed and rolled his eyes when he came back with water and more medicine for her.

"Stop talking so much, Odango Atama."

She made a face at him, even as she took the water and pills gratefully.

"Sorry about Ayako and the opera," she said.

"Ayaka," Mamoru corrected, quietly.

"Yeah," she cleared her throat. "You were supposed to _warn_ me when you had a date, baka," her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but she put all the force of her annoyance behind it. "We had a deal." She reached out to punch him again and he dodged it.

"Stop talking," he said. "It's really bad for your throat."

She pointed a finger at him and glared, mouthing 'date'.

"It wasn't a date."

"Well, _she_ thought it was," Usagi whispered, "and _she_ had the hots for you, she told me in the elevator. You could've gotten _so_ lucky. You totally could've had loud living room sex and stuck it to bicycle guy-" she dissolved into a coughing fit again.

"Stop. Talking. Odango. Atama."

"You stop talking," she mostly mouthed, pushing his arm slightly as he stood over the bed. "Accept my apology!" she managed to whisper out, glaring. "You giant baka!"

"Either you want me to stop talking, or you want me to accept your apology," Mamoru said. "I can't do both." He fluffed her pillow a bit, shifting the blankets over her.

She reached out to punch his arm again and he looked down at her with that amused smirk she hated. How could she ever have thought he was devastatingly handsome in his formal clothes? Because he wasn't. At all. Not even with his bangs falling into his eyes as he looked down at her. From where he was leaning over her. On a bed.

" _Fine_ , Odango Atama. I accept your apology. I've seen operas before and I will again, and while Ayaka is wonderful company it's just as well our plans were cancelled if she really felt that way about me."

Usagi gave him an 'oh really' look. In her newly mute state, she exaggerated her expressions even more than usual.

"She's not my type," Mamoru said with a shrug.

She intensified her 'oh really' look, making him chuckle a bit as he straightened.

"Really."

Suspicious eye-narrowing. "Then what is your type?" she mouthed, but he shrugged like he couldn't really understand her. She made a big show of rolling her eyes (although it did sort of make her headache worse) and flopping down further on the pillows. Usagi realized she never stopped to consider that question before - what sort of girl would Chiba Mamoru fall for? She realized she didn't like that question at all and decided not to ponder it any more tonight. Or ever.

"Good night, Odango Atama."

She sighed. His bed _was_ comfortable, Mamoru obviously splurged for the expensive pillows. She felt a cool cloth placed on her forehead and managed to murmur a 'thank you'.

Even though he annoyed her to no end, it always seemed to be Mamoru taking care of her. She hoped sometime soon she could repay the favor...

It was the last thought she had before she fell asleep.

* * *

When she woke up, she felt well enough to go back to her own place at least, and Minako came over with bags and bags filled with about half the pharmacy and bakery, effectively letting Mamoru off Usagi-duty.

It took a few more days for Usagi to shake the fever fully. (And Mamoru was right, he never caught it. Minako wasn't so lucky.)

So the next Friday found her spying through her peephole once again, and listening for the elevator and for Mamoru's return from work. When she heard his door and (glass at the ready), made sure he was in his apartment and alone (and, she told herself very firmly, this was not creepy at all, she was just _making sure_ ), she took the box of Makoto's fresh baked pastries and went to knock on his door.

"This is to thank you!" Usagi babbled out, as soon as he answered. She bowed and presented the box almost nervously. "I know it's not quite opera tickets but... these are the best chocolate croissants in the city! Chocoro _wishes_ they could bake like Mako-chan!"

He took the box from her with that Mamoru-ish inscrutable smile. "Thank you very much for this gift," he said formally, and placed the box on the counter behind him.

Usagi's eyes followed the box, mouth a bit open, then she pulled her lower lip into her mouth and bit down slightly. "Well," she said finally, "I... suppose ... if you aren't going to open them now..."

"I think they'll save," he said, "maybe they'll go well with tomorrow's coffee."

She nodded, eyes not leaving the box. "Totally. Of course. Well... I guess I should get back to-"

He laughed then, opening the door wider and gesturing to his hallway. "Come in, idiot. I'll get the plates."

"You really are a jerk, you know that?" Usagi fumed, even as she kicked off her shoes and marched into the living room.

They sat on the floor at his coffee table, and Mamoru insisted on plates and mugs of coffee and napkins and forks which Usagi had to admit was a nice change from shoving food in her mouth over the sink.

"I appreciate the thought," Mamoru said, a cup of coffee and half a croissant later, (in Usagi's case, a quarter cup of coffee and two croissants), "but it really is unnecessarily to thank me."

Usagi sighed and rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna do the whole 'oh, you were sick and I wasn't gonna leave you because hippopotamus oath' or whatever?"

Mamoru laughed a little, "No, actually," he sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "I wouldn't have left you, because you were sick. And alone."

Shifting her legs under her to better face him, she knit her brows and tilted her head, sensing he wasn't done.

"I've been sick and alone," he said, to her, but looking into his mug. "More than once, actually." He looked up, meeting her eyes then gave a small smile. He took another sip of his coffee and shrugged. "So, I wasn't about to leave Tsukino Usagi to that same fate." The levity in his voice was clearly changing the subject, but Usagi didn't hold to social niceties like that.

"When were you sick and alone?" Usagi asked, looking into his eyes seriously.

He moistened his lips and gave a half shrug. "I was in a car accident when I was a child," he said. Simply stating fact. "My parents didn't survive. I did."

Her eyes widened a bit.

"There was a lot of time in the hospital. Then, the children's home. I was cared for," he said. "But not always... _cared_ for."

"There's a difference."

"Yes, there is."

Impulsively, Usagi reached out and took his hand, quickly squeezing it. "Thanks for making sure I was _cared_ for," Usagi murmured, something salty burning in the back of her throat.

"Well, you _are_ my only Odango Atama," there was a teasing smirk to his voice. But he didn't move his hand away from hers.

My.

Only.

 _That's not how he meant it,_ Usagi's mind insisted, but that logic was having trouble pushing through the cloudiness caused by the intensity of his gaze into hers. His thumb grazed softly across her fingers, and it was all she could do not shiver with the intensity in the simple touch.

Despite herself, her gaze shifted to his lips - just for a split second - those obnoxious lips, always smirking, always half smiling, always inscrutable. With her free hand she reached up and brushed her thumb over his bottom lip, just to see...

They both jumped with the sound of a door slamming. She pulled her hands away and flustered a bit. "You had, um... chocolate...," she lied, miming wiping her lip.

"You have a bunch around your mouth, too," he said, with that arrogant, amused tone back in his voice, and Usagi bristled. "Not surprising the way you inhaled those things."

Sure enough, the napkin she swiped at her mouth with came off with smears of chocolate all over. "Jerk," she muttered. Then she stood up, glaring. "You know, Mamoru-baka, just because -"

The muffled sounds of male and female laughter drifted through the wall.

"Oh, 11A has company," Usagi said, her angry tirade forgotten as she blinked at Mamoru. The laughter faded into soft murmuring and feminine giggles.

"The walls really are thin here," Usagi mused, as the giggles turned to moans. Mamoru turned to her, mortified, at the thud against the wall.

"Want to take a walk?" he said, already putting on his shoes.

"Yeah, totally!" Usagi said, quickly.

But before leaving, she grabbed one last croissant.

The door closed behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 6! Thanks for your patience as I got this out! The next chapters are planned and should be out soon. I'm curious to know what you think of this one.
> 
> Thanks to @irritablevowel and @floraone!

The power was out.

It was late August, air conditioning was a distant dream, as was running water, electric fans, and anything else that required power to cut the oppressive heat and humidity.

Leaving to go see a movie wasn't an option: she was pretty sure walking down - and then up again - all those flights of stairs might actually kill her. Turns out elevators run on electricity, too.

"Ugh, this is the worst," she groaned out her window to the still, humid city. Determined to finish this chapter of her manga today, she turned her attention back to the desk in front of her, but a drop of sweat landed on the paper, blotching the sketch she was working on.

Okay. Time for drastic action. First of all, clothes were for suckers. Second of all, she was sure she had a few bags of ice left over from that party...

* * *

 

When Mamoru returned from work mid afternoon the heat showed no signs of abating, and he was surprised to see the lobby door of his building - usually secured with a key code - propped open with a brick. The manager was just inside, a bit red-faced and wiping his broad forehead with a damp handkerchief.

"Ah, Chisa-san, bit of a power outage, working on getting it fixed. Might want to go out drinking or something while we get the elevator up and working, haha."

Mamoru didn't bother to correct the man on his name, only sighing at the thought of what a long day it had been, and how his dark, cool apartment was so close...

"How long, exactly, do you think it will be?" he asked.

"Erm, well... see it's the whole block you see, overloaded with the air conditioner units from the new condos and uh... they are working on it but uh.."

Thanking the man and wishing him luck, Mamoru decided to brave the stairwell. It was only ten stories, really, not that big of a deal. He was in decent shape, he could totally handle this.

It took about four stories until regret hit, but it hit hard. The stairwell was hot, even more than outside, and seemed airless and endless. Mamoru realized too late that no power meant no water pressure and he wondered if he had bottled water in his apartment, or if he'd die of dehydration. Maybe they'd find his body between the 8th and 9th floors, collapsed on the stairs, all because his introvert self would rather sweat up ten flights of stairs than make small talk with strangers in an air conditioned bar.

When he finally made it to his floor he was out of breath, sweat dripping into his eyes, shirt unbuttoned to reveal the tank top undershirt beneath. He usually tried to look more put together in public but he wasn't planning on running into anyone between the door to the stairwell and his apartment door. Of course, he should have known better. She always had that impeccable timing.

Tsukino Usagi stood in front of him in a skimpy pink bikini holding out a bottle of flavored water. "Here!" she said, holding out the bottle. "Do you have any ice?"

Usagi had been waiting for Mamoru to return, every door slam had made her jump and run to her door. Finally, though, it had been him stumbling from the stairwell looking half dead.

"Helloooo?" she said, standing on her tip-toes and gently bopping the ice-cold bottle to his nose. "You alive in there?"

He blinked. "Sorry," he said, and Usagi noticed with sympathy that he was still trying to catch his breath after all those stairs, "I just thought for a second I was seeing a mirage."

She giggled. "Nope, there really is water," she said, handing him the bottle. "I mean, it's peach flavored but that's all I have."

He took it gratefully. "Yeah, _that's_ the part I thought I was dreaming up," he muttered before opening it and draining the whole thing in three gulps.

"So, do you?" she pressed, and Mamoru just blinked at her. She wasn't used to him being this slow on the uptake; she chalked it up to the heat.

"Have any ice?" she repeated. She bounced back on the balls of her feet. "See, I got this idea. It's bonkers hot in my place because the a/c went out with the power and I thought, duh, open all the windows, but I think that may have actually made it worse a- I'm not bothering you am I?" Usagi thought to ask, realizing she was following him into his apartment (and it was slightly cooler than hers, windows having been closed and shaded all day long. Dammit).

"If I said yes, would it make a difference?" he asked, but she thought he sounded more amused than annoyed. He opened his freezer and handed her a half-filled ice tray.

"Yes," she snapped, "if you said 'yes' you wouldn't get to go in my ice bath." She took the tray and turned with a pirouette and her nose in the air.

"Wait a minute, your what?" He reached out and grabbed her arm, knocking her off balance so she stumbled back into him.

She suddenly felt super aware of her back pressed against him, the thin fabric of his undershirt was hardly a barrier between his chest and her bare back, and he was still radiating heat from his hike up the stairwell.

She leaned her head back, looked up at him. He stared dumbly back down at her.

Usagi remembered she was in a bikini. Not that she had much to show off, but he had a great view right now. Before she could blush at the thought, she reminded herself that one, this was Mamoru 'Mr. Stoic' Chiba and two, she was no Mako-chan (or even Minako) in the impressive boobs department. But he was sort of shocked silent for longer than usual. She smiled cheekily. "Hi."

"Usagi." He let her arm go and took a step back, making her turn to face him. He opened his mouth and took a breath as if he had a long-suffering diatribe prepared but all that came out was "Ice bath?"

"Yeeeah." She absentmindedly pulled out an ice cube from the tray held half of it in her mouth like a popsicle. "Wyke aye fwell ma bawah wih -"

Mamoru pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Usagi..."

"Uph, schowwy." She pulled the ice cube from her lips with a little 'pop', and then used it to gesture to Mamoru's sweat drenched work outfit.

"I said, I filled my bath tub with ice. If you wanna come you are super overdressed. I'm in my swimsuit."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Ha ha," she rolled her eyes. "Do you have swim trunks?"

"No."

"How do you not have swim trunks?! What do you wear to the beach, a tuxedo?! Well, whatever just change into something that isn't khakis and a button down and come over."

"Because?"

"Because I filled my bathtub with ice! Aren't you listening to me?"

"And what is your brilliant plan involving said bathtub of ice?"

"Uh... I'm gonna get in it?"

"No, you're not."

"Uh, yes I am!" She lifted herself onto her tiptoes in defiance, which was a poorly calculated move considering she was still holding the ice tray in one hand and the half-sucked ice cube in the other, and that made stumbling a distinct possibility.

Mamoru made a move to steady her, then pulled back with a pained expression, seeming to realize there was really no safe place to touch her considering the total lack of coverage her swimwear provided. Instead he reached out and took the ice tray from her, and she steadied herself.

Lamely, she realized she'd actually hoped for a second he'd've caught her. Just out of curiosity of course, wondering what his hand might feel like on her exposed skin.

"You could go into shock."

"What?" she snapped, looking at him like he'd read her mind.

"Just don't say I didn't warn you," he said, half shrugging. "But getting in a bathtub full of ice might not be the best idea, it wouldn't be very comfortable and your body temperature could drop too quickly causing light-headedness or other symptoms. I don't know if it's a good idea, Odango Atama."

Aware of the color in her cheeks, Usagi just made a face at him and left, marching out of his apartment and back into hers.

Oh god, was it even hotter in here than when she left!? Usagi closed all her windows and her shades like Mamoru's place had but it didn't seem to make any immediate difference.

"Now it's just _dark_ and hot," she groused, stomping to the bathroom.

Now, the bathroom itself was actually pleasant. The ice had cooled the room down considerably, and there were no windows to let in heat. Usagi had put some electric candles on the sink for light, giving the room a dim, flickering quality.

"Shock, huh?" She murmured, poking at the ice a bit. Why had she even asked Mamoru-baka in the first place? Why had she waited all day for him to come home? She didn't need any more ice, anyway, especially his pathetic half-filled ice tray. She leaned her head on the cool porcelain side of the tub and sighed, when a knock came at the door.

"You forgot your ice," Mamoru said, and Usagi couldn't help the smile that broke across her face.

He wasn't exactly in swim trunks, but the soccer shorts and t-shirt were good enough for her. His arms were nice, Usagi noticed, not for the first time. Toned.

"Oh yeah, what would I do without your six ice cubes. Come in!" She bounced through her apartment, toward her ice-filled oasis, ignoring Mamoru's comments about the heat in her place being worse than outside.

"Ta-daaaa!"

Mamoru looked around the bathroom with an impressed frown, "Not bad, Odango Atama. It's actually pretty nice in here."

She squiggled down so her back was against the high side of the soaking tub, stretching her legs out on the cool tile floor, and patted the spot next to her. "Sit," she said. "Since you don't want me to get in, Mr. Knows Everything, at least we can enjoy my homemade air conditioning."

He sighed, but this time Usagi thought it was less annoyed and more kind of... relaxed and satisfied... as he settled down next to her. He leaned his head back and seemed to shut his eyes.

"Long day?" Usagi asked, fighting the sudden and overwhelming urge to lean her head on his shoulder. She settled for letting her eyes wander over his bare arms and long legs; it was unusual to see him so casually dressed. She liked it. He looked younger. Usagi waited for the usual flash of annoyance that came whenever she noticed how attractive he was, but it didn't come this time. That was inconvenient.

He half-shrugged. "The usual. Just glad to be home."

"Well, you walked up eleven flights of stairs for it so," she rummaged behind her and pulled out an ice cube to suck on, stretching out her legs further and flexing her feet. "That was hardcore."

"Hmm," his eyes still looked closed, long lashes against his cheeks. Usagi looked at him out of the corner of her eye while continuing to suck on her ice cube.

She reached behind her slowly, gathering a few more ice cubes in her hand and bringing them to her lap.

"What are you doing?" he asked, not changing his expression except to raise an eyebrow.

"Ah!" Usagi shifted to her knees. "You did have your eyes open!"

"I know better than to shut my eyes around you, Odango Atama," he murmured, still not moving. What he didn't mention was that he wasn't going to waste one second of Usagi-in-a-bikini looking at the inside of his own eyelids.

His lack of movement meant he obviously had far too much confidence in his reflexes, or far too little in hers, Usagi realized. Well, he'd never had to fight Rei over the last signed copy of Peach Girl at Mangaopolis, had he? She rested her elbow on the rim of the tub, listing her head to the side innocently. Mamoru fully opened one eye, half a smirk pulling at his mouth.

"Whatever you are thinking of doing, don't."

Usagi pasted on her most innocent of innocent expressions. "What this?" she said, lifting her handful of ice. "It's just to cool me down. I won't go into shock just holding ice, will I?"

"In my professional opinion, no."

"What about you?" she leaned forward slightly. "If I do... this!" Instantly about four or five ice cubes went down the back of his shirt where her hand had snaked around behind him.

He leaned forward with a yelp and she poked him in the chest.

"That's for not telling me about your birthday!"

"Jeeze, Odango Atama, I don't tell anyone about my birthday!" He pulled the hem of his shirt up and tried to shake out the ice cubes.

"Well, you can't just _not tell me_ it was your birthday, I probably saw you that day and just said hi like it was a regular day!"

"It _was_ a regular day!"

"It was not! It was your birthday!" She punched his arm and he threw an ice cube at her, which landed on her neck and slid down to land right between her breasts in the bikini top.

She squealed and picked it out. "That was cold, baka!" She took the cube and threw it back at him, where it bounced off his hand back into the tub.

So, he totally would be too polite to notice that now her nipples were just completely poking out through the thin bathing suit material, right? That was the sort of thing it was probably too dim to notice, what with the power out and all. Unless he was staring. Which she was sure he was not. Because... that isn't something he'd care about, being that he was completely immune to looking at her that way, and always had been. Right? Right. Usagi had that quick conversation in her head, and then realized Mamoru had started talking.

"What would you have done, if you knew it was my birthday, anyway?" he said, adjusting his shirt and shaking his head a bit.

"I dunno... maybe I would've baked you a cake!"

"Pass."

"Jerk," she muttered, leaning back and crossing her arms. "I would've done something. At least said something. Birthdays are special, ya know."

"Not really to me," he shrugged.

"That's the saddest thing I ever heard," she said, matter-of-factly. "You are the saddest person, Chiba Mamoru, I swear to god."

"Thanks."

She curled up next to him, accidentally-on-purpose brushing her arm against his (just to see if his arms really were as slim and muscular as they looked) (the answer was, annoyingly, yes). "Okay, so pretend it's three weeks ago or whatever, what would you want for your birthday?"

"I don't know. You in a bikini and an ice bath, I guess."

"BAKA!" Usagi made to stand up, but the floor was littered with melting ice cubes at this point, and so she slipped before she even got to a standing position.

She was lucky not to slam her head against the sink or the bathtub, or even hit the hard tile of the floor. Instead, Mamoru's reflexes kicked in and he managed to - if not catch her exactly - at least reach out and pull her so she fell onto him instead.

Her belly hit his lap, her face inches from the floor, her legs splayed out behind her.

"Oof," she managed, at the same time he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, the shock wearing off to the awareness that his hand was on her side, her arm flung across his shoulder, his cell phone digging into her hip as she attempted to wiggle her way into a more comfortable position.

"Hold on," he hissed, and his other hand moved to her side, attempting to move her off him.

But her hand kept slipping on the ice on the floor, and her shoulder was too close to sink to sit straight up without hitting her head, and ... Mamoru's hands on her bare skin felt so nice... she probably shouldn't be enjoying this but his legs and arms were as muscular as they looked. Not too much, he was so slim in those button downs he always wore, but the t-shirt was thin and so were his shorts and...

that's about when she realized it wasn't a cell phone she was feeling pressed against her thigh.

_Oh my god._

A rush of something heady and almost triumphant ran through Usagi's veins and settled in a pleasant thrum between her legs.

_I gave Chiba Mamoru a hard on._

_I gave_ Chiba Mamoru _a_ hard on _!_

_Okay so now what do I do?_ Usagi's heart pounded and her fingers curled around Mamoru's (incredibly amazing) t-shirt clad shoulder as she hoisted herself a bit further up against him, causing him to take a sharp breath in through his teeth. Her face lowered against his neck, she didn't move and neither did he, his hands frozen on her sides, one of her arms around his shoulder, the other still posed on the wet floor.

_Do I say something? No, right? That's rude? Would it embarrass him?_ She should move off him, of course, apologize and pretend it never happened but...

his breathing was more rapid than before, and she knew hers was too, she swore she could feel his heart pounding. Slowly, she leaned her head down and brushed her lips against his neck; not quite a kiss, just a brush, letting them slide down from his ear to the hem of his shirt.

The reaction was subtle, a tensing of his fingers on her flesh, his arousal pulsing slightly against her thigh, an almost-hum from deep in his throat. Pulling back, Usagi met his eyes in the dim light, aware she was practically panting, they could blame this on the heat, couldn't they? His eyes were almost all pupil in the faux candle light. Lowering her eyelids, she leaned closer, and so did he, hands sliding up her back...

And suddenly bathroom lights seared on like a beacon.

"Ouch!" she shut her eyes against the brightness, sitting up too fast and hitting her head on the sink.

Every single appliance in Usagi's apartment had sprung to life. The television blared, the A/C roared on again, every single light burned on.

"You okay?" Mamoru said, for the second time, and she nodded, eyes still squeezed shut. Gently taking her arms, she felt Mamoru maneuver out from under her, and she followed him out of the bathroom to the living room where he was turning off the TV. The radio was also on, Usagi realized. And the TV in the bedroom.

"Jeeze, Odango Atama, was _everything_ on?"

Guess the moment was broken.

"Uh- isn't that what you are supposed to do in a power outage?"

He looked at her like she was crazy, and opened his mouth to answer when her landline phone rang, the sharp ring joining the various other noises in the apartment. No one really had that number, since it was Tawase-sensei's, and Usagi picked up out of surprise more than anything. "Hello Tawase-sama residence?... Oh yes, no everything is fine, Tawase-sensei..." she looked at Mamoru, who seemed to take that moment to make his escape, with a wave and a tight smile.

As Tawase-sensei talked in Usagi's ear without her really hearing, Usagi looked at the door Mamoru had exited, her hand subconsciously brushing the area his hands had touched.

It was only later, faced with wondering what to do with the bathtub full of melting ice - that she finally pressed a towel to her face to muffle the sound and squealed out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, remember this is a slow burn and I did meant that ... any flames that flare up have to be doused for a bit. Keep that in mind for the next chapter ok... ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the OVERWHELMING positive response the last chapter got on both ff dot net and Ao3! I was blown away by the number of reviews, and the positive enthusiasm and amusement you all had over those two idiots and their crazy antics.
> 
> Thanks to my beta Irritablevowel, and Floraone for always chatting fandom stuff with me!
> 
> You definitely want to check out their stories!

Usagi put down her pencil and stretched. She looked over her page layout with a satisfied nod. Her manga was really coming along, and she felt really proud of what she'd done so far.

Ready for a break, she made her way toward the kitchen for (another) snack, and wondered if she should see if Mamoru was home again. She'd been knocking on his door for the last couple of days, attempting to return the ice tray he'd left at her place during his awkward escape after the power outage, but he hadn't been home. She wasn't too worried, he worked odd hours at the hospital and Usagi had gone longer without seeing him before. Still, she found herself more tuned in than usual to the 'ding' of the elevator and the sound of footsteps in the hallway. She'd often burst out of her door expecting Mamoru, only to wave sheepishly at her other floormates (and sometimes help old Mrs. Matsumoto with her groceries) and retreat back into her apartment.

This time, she was halfway through a melon bread and a Qoo soft drink, when she heard the elevator and some footsteps and then the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock, right next door.

She was out in the hallway before she realized it, bare feet and all, and pulled up short when a slim blond man it took her a moment to recognize was opening Mamoru's door.

"Asanuma-san?" Usagi asked, blinking in surprise.

Mamoru's old classmate looked up, and although he was older, of course, he still had that baby-faced quality about him, blue eyes framed by thick, blond lashes. "Oh. Uh... yeah." His brows knit. "I know you."

"Tsukino. Usagi. From, uh. Juuban High. It was a long time ago..."

"Oh! Right." Asanuma nodded, with a small frown as if he was pulling Usagi from deep in his memory. "I remember your friend Makoto."

"So, what's going on?" Usagi asked, tilting her head slightly toward the door.

"Oh, Mamoru-sempai is in Osaka for a medical conference since Monday. He asked me if I'd come and water his plants and feed his fish for him. Plus, check his mail, that sort of thing."

"Oh." Mamoru had fish? Usagi seemed to remember a tank in the hallway by the bedroom, but the last time she'd been in that part of his place she was practically delirious with fever.

"So... What are you doing here?" Asanuma asked, when it was clear Usagi had no follow-up conversation and didn't seem to be ready to leave the hallway.

"I... am living next door."

"Really?" Asanuma seemed surprised. "I had no idea. Mamoru never mentioned anything!"

Usagi blinked. "Well, I only moved in a few months ago."

"It's odd he didn't ask you to come by, considering you probably have a spare key," Asanuma said thoughtfully.

"I don't," Usagi said. "Have a spare key."

"Oh." Asanuma paused awkwardly. "Well. I mean. You've only just moved in."

"Right."

"Anyway, I should probably..." he nodded his head toward the apartment.

"When's he coming back?" Usagi blurted and Asanuma opened his mouth and then closed it again.

He glanced into Mamoru's partly opened doorway as if he was on an important mission that Usagi was interrupting and possibly even jeopardizing. "I... I mean, I don't know if I'm at liberty to say."

"Seriously?!" Usagi's mouth dropped open.

"Well, Mamoru-sempai didn't tell me whether or not to tell his neighbors his coming and going," Asanuma said, importantly.

"He's a doctor, not a spy!" Usagi threw her arms out in frustration.

"Just text him yourself and ask him," Asanuma suggested and Usagi deflated.

"I... don't have his number," she mumbled.

Asanuma raised his brows and took a deep breath. "Well... I better go take care of everything so...," He pursed his lips and disappeared into Mamoru's apartment with an overly polite good-bye and very deep bow that Usagi took immense offense to.

"Hey, Asanuma-san?" she couldn't help calling after him. "Do you know when Mamoru's birthday is? Or is that 'classified information' too?"

"Oh, you missed it anyway," he answered from the genkan, while untying his shoes. "It was back on the 3rd."

When Usagi went back into her apartment, slamming the door for good measure, she walked purposely back to her desk. Picking up her pencil, she looked at her finished layout and cringed. It was all wrong!

With a frustrated growl, she crumbled the paper up in her hands and threw it across the room.

* * *

The bar was crowded for a Thursday night, but the girls had all had gotten seats at a corner table - thanks mostly to Minako's incredible low-cut top and high-key flirting skills - and Usagi was just sucking down the last of her third or fourth fruity rum-based drink.

"So," Usagi said, pushing an errant blonde curl from her forehead, "you guys, are, like, the best friends ever you know that?"

"It's not every day it's _you_ who plans an emergency night out," Makoto said, delicately sipping her mojito.

Earlier that week, Usagi had texted the group text a siren emoji and a martini emoji - their code for 'next free night, we need to all go get wasted, or at least I do, please and thank you' - the code had been used many a time by others (less so Ami, although a couple times after exams) but usually not by Usagi. (Although she was always an enthusiastic participant).

"Is everything okay?" Ami asked gently.

"Considering you are lapping us in drinks," Minako said, "even me!" She drained her second Manhattan and waved the bartender over.

"One more for me too!" Usagi slurred a bit, jiggling her glass and tipping it back to catch the ice cubes in her mouth. She missed, and they hit her in the face.

"No, it's just... this manga is like uuuggggh, I can't get it right ya know?" She gestured with her hands, almost hitting Rei in the face. "Like, I quit that temp job, right? To stay home an' work on it but it's not... I mean, I feel like it's... and then I live next door to _Mamoru_ you guys, and he's always... in my ... in my _business_."

"Okay," Minako said, biting back a laugh.

"She's such a cute drunk," Ami murmured to Makoto, who nodded, with a grin.

"How so?" Rei asked, moving her martini far away from Usagi's flying arms and hands.

"Well, like, just because my fire alarm goes off, or like... because there's a scary movie on tv and I scream or like, like, once because... um... there was a spider..." she sighed, and leaned her head on her hand. "The walls are soooo thin, and so like, he's always like... _there_ , except now he's at some _thing_."

Minako and Rei exchanged glances over Usagi's head.

"Sounds like it's a frustrating situation," Ami said, delicately.

The bartender returned and Usagi grabbed her new drink with both hands and sucked down half of it through the straw without breathing.

"As if I _care_ about his personal life aaaannnyway," she rolled her eyes. "And now I've got front-row seats! Like, what if he brings home a date?! And they have _sex_?! And I have to _hear_ it?! Ugh. 'Oh, Mamoru, your dick is sooooo big, fuck me against your huge wall of encyclobed- enco- _books_ while I recite all the decibals of Pi!' Grooooss."

Ami, Makoto and Rei looked at her with identical wide-eyed expressions. Ami was so dumbstruck she didn't even correct her on 'decimals'.

Minako just conversationally leaned her head on her hand and swirled her straw in the Long Island iced tea she'd just gotten.

"I'm curious how you are so sure about the size of his dick." She took another sip of her drink. "Have you seen it?"

Usagi rolled her eyes. "Of _course_ not," she managed, around the straw while she finished her drink. "I didn't seeeee it."

"Interesting."

Rei hit Minako in the arm.

"Because men... ya know...," Usagi slurred, "men'll just, like, they'll get a giant boner on you, but they don't... tell you they have _fish_ ya know?!" She waved for another drink but Makoto gestured to the bartender from behind her, mouthing 'water'.

"Yes... that is, something that men do. I guess," Makoto said, nodding slowly and shrugging at Ami.

"So, wait, what's this about fish?" Ami asked, confused.

"Forget fish, what's this about a boner?" Minako asked, leaning forward on her elbows.

"And _why_ would he give you his phone fumber-number-, because who the fuck are you? No one that's who. Just some dumb girl who had the flu in his bed," Usagi sighed wistfully, lifting her arm up into the air dramatically.

"The what in his what?" Rei asked.

"Okay, well, it's a sign we should probably get her home, if Usagi is starting to use the f-word," Ami said, conceding they weren't getting any more answers out of Usagi tonight anyway.

"The f-word? Flu?" Minako asked Ami.

"Fuck," she answered.

"Hee hee I know, I just wanted to hear you say 'fuck'."

"Look, Usagi, he's probably not worth it," Rei said, as they all gathered their things (and Usagi's things) (and Usagi herself) and made to leave the bar. "If you are getting drunk over him and he won't even give you his number? Forget him."

* * *

In the elevator up to her apartment, Usagi curled into Makoto's shoulder and half dozed drunkenly. Minako cheerfully unlocked her door and helped her in. "I always say, the surefire way to get over one guy, is another guy."

"Hmmphh," Usagi said, as Makoto half walked-half carried Usagi to the bathroom and gently washed her face with a wet washcloth.

"I know this guy...," Minako was saying, "he's super cute, really nice, great ass. You'll love him."

"Ooohkay."

Makoto gently took off Usagi's belt and necklace. "You don't want to sleep in these, hon, it'll leave marks."

Usagi curled up on her side when Makoto put her on her bed, and Minako covered her with the duvet. "I'll text you about the date," she said, dropping a light kiss on Usagi's forehead. "Good luck with that hangover."

* * *

"Rei, Usagi _is_ home, right?" Minako said into her cell phone. She popped her gum while swinging the small shopping bag she held from one perfectly manicured finger. "Cuz she's not buzzing me in." She sighed, leaned on the white-turned-city-dirty brick of the building. "Yeah, yeah I'm here early to help her get ready. What else does she have to do? It's Saturday and she doesn't have a job or anything."

Minako laughed at something the other girl said, "True, even when. I know. I know."

"I bet she's listening to DDR at top volume since her stick-up-the-butt neighbor isn't home. I'll try to buzz her again in a few," Minako examined the sparkling polish on her nails, cradling the phone between her head and shoulder.

"No, I'm going with her. Hiroshi and I are gonna double with them. Oh, Rei, he's _totes_ perfect for Usagi!" She moved the phone to her other ear.

Minako bounced a little, excited to brag to Rei what a catch she'd managed to score to cheer up their friend.

"Tatsuo so friendly and hilariously funny. A kind word for everyone, the warmest brown eyes. Oh! So, like, imagine Motoki in high school, when Usagi had the biggest crush on him? Only, like, _not_ engaged to Reika and with a _major_ thing for blondes."

She laughed, "Yes, thank you I _am_ good at what I do. We are going to dinner and then karaoke. It's gonna be the best date ever. Even went out and got her a push-up bra for those A-cups she calls boobs... Okay, I'm gonna try to buzz in again. I'll text updates. Don't wait up!"

Minako hung up on Rei and dropped her phone absentmindly in the shopping bag, having turned from where she was leaned against the building, only to see Mamoru standing behind her, a small roller bag in his hand.

_Oh, fuck._

"Did you need to get in?" he asked, gesturing to the code box.

Mutely, she nodded.

Politely, he entered the code and even opened the door for her, even though he was the one with the suitcase.

"So...," Minako said, after the elevator button was pressed and the most awkward of awkward silences fell upon them. She lifted her eyes to the illuminated numbers indicating where the elevator was. Whoever was on floor 7 sure was taking their sweetass time. "How... is... um," and it died right there.

What was she supposed to say? _"So, funny story, I know more about your erect penis than I ever wanted to, and, uh, exactly how much did you hear about Usagi's date tonight?"_

She had a feeling he'd been waiting for her to finish her phone conversation so he could let her in the building. Which meant he'd heard of all it. Every damn word.

The real question was: did he care? Minako glanced at him, but his face was a complete blank as he watched for the elevator. He didn't bother to acknowledge her aborted attempt at small talk, and the tension in his shoulders made Minako know better than to try again.

Also, she was finding really, really difficult not to sneak a peak at his crotch just because. Well. Usagi _had_ used the word "giant".

The elevator finally arrived, and Mamoru gestured, again, politely for Minako to go first.

She shook her head and smiled, "Oh, _no_ thank you. I'll wait for the next one."

The elevator doors closed on Mamoru's perplexed expression and Minako slammed her head into her hands with a loud moan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Chapter 8!
> 
> Thanks for all the feedback, I'm so happy at every single review I receive, every comment, every kudo (and I have a suspicion some of you are signing out of Ao3 to leave kudos as guests on the new chapters? Superb, simply glorious).
> 
> you can thank Irritablevowel and Floraone for all of this!

Usagi concentrated on fishing the cherry out of her soda-based mocktail, while Minako cheerfully bubbled on to the two boys sitting with them at the restaurant. Minako and Hiroshi were sitting across from Usagi and her date - Tatsuo, she remembered Minako introducing him as. Minako and Hiro-kun, as she called him, had been going out fairly casually for about a month so they were already comfortably talking, his arm around the back of her chair.

Usagi finally got the cherry in her spoon and popped it in her mouth, not caring much about the lipstick Minako had taken such pains to apply on her just half an hour ago. She was about to be eating anyway.

"You can have mine, too," Tatsuo said, smiling. A cherry had come bobbing in the whiskey sour he had ordered and he tilted the glass toward Usagi who angled her pink-painted fingernails just so to grab the stem without contaminating his drink.

"Thanks," she said, remembering at the last minute not to talk with her mouth full. Her hangover yesterday had turned her off alcohol for the time being, and the whiskey taste to the cherry made her wrinkle her nose.

"I can tie the stem in a knot with my tongue," Minako said from across the table.

Usagi made a face. "Last time I tried that I choked so badly the bartender had to give me the Heimlich maneuver."

"If I remember correctly you still got his number," Minako reminded her, and Usagi blushed at the memory. She'd never called him.

Annoyingly, the reminder that a random bartender who had to make her gag up a cherry stem would freely hand over his digits, and her hot neighbor whom she _almost kissed_ the other day remained unreachable made Usagi want to order dessert first, to be honest, but she settled for a hamburg steak with _extra_ fried potatoes.

"So," said Tatsuo. Usagi noticed he _did_ have nice eyes, very warm, like a mug of hot chocolate, and framed by the thickest, darkest lashes Usagi had ever seen. He was _very_ cute. It just made her feel empty. "So Minako tells me you are apartment sitting for your boss? What's that like?"

Usagi nodded. "It's awesome," she said. "My place is huge and I don't pay rent. The view is amazing!" She cleared her throat, taking a swig of her soda. "And, like, my neighbor Mrs. Matsumoto is ancient, and super hard of hearing, so I can play music and movies as loud as I want without anyone complaining."

Tatsuo laughed.

"I mean," she cleared her throat again, "my neighbor on the other side _could_ complain, but he's known me forever so I think I get away with a bit more." She paused, considering whether or not to continue and then it seemed like her mouth just moved ahead of her brain. "He's ... kinda annoying, though? Like, okay, this one time..."

* * *

Usagi polished off her entire meal and a slice of chocolate cake before the check came, and realized she'd done most of the talking - even around bites.

"Sorry," she cringed. "I usually don't hog up the conversation like this."

"That's okay," Tatsuo said, "I'm a good listener." Despite Usagi's protests, he covered her portion of the check even though she had her phone ready to figure out splitting it.

"So, are we off to karaoke?" Minako asked, standing up and slinging her purse around her shoulder.

"Just a moment, we'll catch you up," Tatsuo said.

With a grin and a wink, Minako walked Hiroshi out the door of the restaurant, leaving Usagi and Tatsuo behind.

Tatsuo took a deep breath, and looked at Usagi with a sad smile. "I think maybe it's time to head home."

Usagi looked at him, distressed, but his smile held no malice or annoyance.

"Tsukino-san," he continued, "you are a really sweet girl, and _very_ cute, but... I think you are in love with your next-door neighbor."

"Mrs. Matsumoto?" Usagi burst out, before she could stop herself, and Tastuo laughed again, looking almost wistful.

"And you have a great sense of humor," he added. "I really like you, but... You literally didn't stop talking about this Mamoru guy all night," he said. "I think... this is the place where I bow out."

The heat in her cheeks was hitting nuclear levels, and tears were pricking behind her eyes. Great. She couldn't even have a normal date. She couldn't even pretend to be a normal, non-Mamoru-obsessed human being for, like, two hours.

"It's okay!" he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. "Tsukino-san, it's really okay!"

"It's not," she managed to say through the burning in her throat. "I'm sorry I ruined your night for nothing. He doesn't even like me back."

At this, Tatsuo looked genuinely surprised. "I don't think you were listening to the same stories you were telling me," he said.

Usagi's brows knit and he shrugged in response.

"Well, what do I know, I don't know you that well and I don't know him at all so..."

"Anyway, I _am_ sorry," Usagi managed. She stood up and shrugged her denim vest on over the low-cut black top Minako had picked out for her. "Thank you so much for dinner. I think... I think I'm going to walk home. Could you let... the others know?"

He nodded, and after she thanked him again and hurried out of the building before she could embarrass herself further.

What an utter and total failure she was. At everything.

The sun was setting earlier and earlier as summer was drifting to a close, and the sky was already dark purple dusk above the hazy light of the tall city buildings.

Usagi shoved her hands into her vest pockets and hunched her shoulders as she walked. In her pocket, her phone was pinging with texts from Minako - concerned about her no doubt - and without looking she pressed and held the power button until it turned off. If only it was pouring rain, that'd fit her mood better. As it was, she just wanted to get home, sit in the bottom of her bathtub and turn the shower on full blast.

She arrived on her block at the same time a taxicab pulled up to her building with a squeal, and a very inebriated man stumbled out. Usagi barely blinked; it wouldn't be Tokyo if there weren't drunken salarymen shuffling home - even on Saturdays - but then she looked closer. Something about the lanky figure struggling to the door was far too familiar... "Mamoru?!"

He looked at her blearily, shaking his head and blinking a few times before mumbling a greeting, slumping against the doors to the building as Usagi stood on tip-toes to quickly (and soberly) enter the code to the building for both of them. Opening the door, she took his arm to usher him in.

"When did you get back?" she asked, as they waited for the elevator. He swayed on his feet and Usagi held on to his arm for support, a bit nervous about what she was supposed to do if he fell over. He may have been able to catch her and carry her easily when she fainted from the fever, she doubted her own ability to do the same should he collapse on the ground.

"Today," he answered, looking at her hands on his arm.

"Did you go out drinking right after getting home?" Her nose wrinkled. "You smell like the carpet of a Kabukicho bar, for pete's sake," she accused, knowing she was being incredibly hypocritical, considering the state she was in just two nights ago. But at least she had an excuse! She'd been nursing a bruised heart!

"How many bar carpets have you smelled," he said, leaning heavily against the wall, "to know so well?"

Usagi glared. He was barely slurring his words at all, even though the man could barely stand up straight. Seemed Mamoru was quite the articulate drunk. Lucky her.

The elevator arrived and she stubbornly kept his arm in her grip, even as he tried to wave her off. "I can _walk_ , Odango Atama."

Undeterred, she kept steadying him as he weaved a bit, looking at the floor numbers like he was trying to get his eyes to focus.

"Eleven," she said, pushing the button with her free hand. "We live on eleven."

He spent a while fumbling for his key in front of his door, and Usagi bit back a few thoughts she would never, ever say. Like that if she _had_ his spare key, maybe she could let him in much easier. Or that she'd help search his pockets for him, if previous evidence hadn't shown he might enjoy that a little _too_ much. She ended up snatching the key from his hands once he produced it, and opening the door a bit too quickly, with a bit too much agitation.

Her spark of indignation was quickly doused, however, by how helpless he seemed, listing against the doorframe, dark hair falling in his eyes, hands opening and closing in fists.

"Hey," she said, gently. "Let's get you taken care of." She reached up and brushed the side of his face with her hand, trying to draw his gaze to hers. Instead, he reached up and cupped his hand over hers, turning his face to into her hand with a sigh.

Usagi's heart pounded in her throat. The feel of his skin against her palm sent tingles down her spine and she had to shake herself out of it by reminding herself that they were still standing in his doorway, shoes on, door open, key in the lock. He was drunk, and as such, was acting uncharacteristically... well, stupid.

"C'mon, drinky," she said, too cheerfully, pulling her hand away.

She took care of the door, removed her ballet flats easily, and helped him when he struggled with his loafers. Then, winding an arm around his waist, she walked him to the sofa, where he sat down heavily, covering his face with a groan.

For a moment, Usagi couldn't help running her hands through his hair, telling herself it was an innocent, comforting gesture. "I'm gonna get you some water, okay?" she said, gently.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date?" he asked, and Usagi paused.

"How'd you know that?" she asked from the kitchen. Of course his cabinets were immaculate and organized perfectly but somehow the usual annoyance Usagi would feel at such a discovery only felt like a rush of affection instead. _Oh god maybe Tatsuo is right. I might actually be in love with my neighbor._

"I ran into... I don't know...Blonde Friend ... she said."

"Minako?" Usagi handed Mamoru the water and sat down next to him, smoothing her skirt over her lap, thoughtfully. Minako hadn't mentioned running into Mamoru - let alone that she'd blabbed about Usagi's date to him! - but then again, she may not have wanted to ruin Usagi's attempt at getting over the man by bringing him up in conversation.

"I went," she said. "It didn't work out." She could feel him looking at her, and she stubbornly refused to look over. Forcing a smile on her face, she continued to address her knees. "Left early. He wasn't my type."

"Sorry," Mamoru said, quietly.

"Drink your water," Usagi admonished, poking him in the arm. He complied, then insisted on walking himself to the bathroom.

Usagi refilled the water and walked it into the bedroom, putting the glass on the nightstand for him. With a sigh, she thought how she'd slept in the bed when she was sick, when he took care of her, instead of going to the opera with his gorgeous colleague. His suitcase was sitting by the bed, still unpacked, which Usagi thought seemed unlike him.

A footfall behind her made her turn, and she was greeted by the adorable sight of Mamoru rubbing his eyes like a child. Her heart squeezed. "C'mere," she murmured, wrapping an arm around his waist again. She pushed away the thought that he didn't _really_ need help walking the three steps to his bed, just enjoyed the feeling of his leaning against her, the starch of his shirt and leather of his belt against the underside of her arm.

"I know it's kinda early but...," she said, as he sat on the edge of his bed, "I think you should probably sleep this off..." She gave him a crooked smile and he looked back her, eyes dark, dark blue in the room's dim light. "Be right back, okay?"

Taking a cue from Makoto, she got a warm, damp washcloth from the bathroom, and padded back to the bedroom.

"You don't have to-," he started but she waved off his protests, kneeling in front of him.

"You've taken care of me more times than I can count since I moved in," Usagi said, as she softly ran the towel across his forehead, eyes and face. "It's only fair I'm here now."

He shut his eyes, sighing softly. Then his eyes popped open wide again. "Usagi, what-"

"I'm not letting you fall asleep in your clothes! What am I even here for otherwise?"

"I can unbutton my own shirt!"

"Can you, though?" She returned to deftly and quickly unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off over his shoulders in one easy movement. The tank shirt beneath was fine to sleep in, Usagi decided. And not bad on the eyes, either, not that she was looking. "See? Not so bad."

She tossed his shirt on the floor in a puddle, and he glanced at it and shut his eyes again, falling back down against the pillows. She sat on the bed and scooted up next to him.

"Mamoru, can you get your belt off?" She whispered. "Sleeping in that will be so uncomfortable... Sorry...," she said, again, the heat of a blush burning her face. "I can help, if you need me to..."

He mumbled something she couldn't hear, his face toward the pillow.

"What?" she said, leaning over him slightly.

"I asked if you're trying to kill me," he said, blinking unevenly at the ceiling, eyes still unfocused and cloudy with alcohol. "If this is some... cosmic joke being played on me..."

"I don't understand," Usagi huffed.

"Tsukino Usagi just moves next door," he said, sitting up on his elbows, "as if... as if... that's just a thing I can handle."

"Hey! I'm not that bad," Usagi said, frowning. Over and over he said she wasn't the worst neighbor! So now what was he going on about?!

He clumsily turned to face her, lifted a hand to her hair. Usagi shut her eyes against the feeling of his fingers caressing the curls around her ears, at the nape of her neck. To keep herself from falling utterly helpless to his touch, she tried to keep talking. "I mean..." As she talked, he dropped his head to her neck, his breath tickling the tender area where her neck met her shoulder. "Okay, so I'm not, like, perfect but..."

"You _are_ ," he growled into her neck, "goddamn perfect."

The sound she made was embarrassing, almost a squeak more than a moan, at the feel of his mouth pressing hot on her neck, at his other hand sliding along the exposed skin between her shirt and her skirt. Her whole body responded with aching, immediate reciprocation.

"Mamoru... you're drunk," she said, swallowing hard. "You... you don't know what you are doing."

"I know _exactly_ what I'm doing," he mumbled, pressing his lips against her skin, tracing a line of kisses up to her ear. She couldn't help the soft cry that escaped her, the temptation to _stay_ , to imagine that she was here with him in a lover's embrace and not as a drunken mistake.

But she wouldn't. She couldn't.

"No," she managed to say, shaking her head and pulling herself out of the fog of desire that had settled over her body. As soon as she protested, Mamoru let her go, dropping his arms and she scrambled up off the bed.

"I just...," she looked at him. At his mussed up hair and confused blue eyes and rumpled bed and she wanted to throw up. "Not like this. It can't be like this. Not with you."

She didn't even bother to put her shoes on, just grabbed them and left, running next door to an apartment that never seemed less like home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my beta Irritablevowel and to Floraone for brainstorming and everyone who has left reviews and comments and kudos and favorites and all that! It's so appreciated.

Usagi paced back and forth in front of Mamoru's door the next day, tapping her fingers on the styrofoam of the coffee cup. Where was he? Had he actually gone into work today? Sunday was a weird day for him to be working, besides he _had_ to be hungover enough to call in sick even if he was. Considering how drunk he was the night before... Usagi brushed her fingers against the place on her neck where he'd pressed his lips so desperately, so ardently... then she shook her head, breaking the image.

That was part of the reason she was here, after all. Not only to nurse him through the hangover, but to try to figure out just how much of that passion might be able to stick around in the light of day.

Was he still asleep? She could've sworn she'd heard him moving around when she'd listened against the wall that morning - not that she was spying! She just wanted to be sure he was up before she went all the way across the street for coffee and then knocked on this door.

She was just lifting her fist to knock again when the door opened and Mamoru blinked at her blearily. He looked like hell, Usagi thought sympathetically, although she couldn't stop her heart from pounding at his nearness. His eyes were bloodshot and he had stubble on his chin, and still had the utter gall to look handsome. He _had_ slept in his belted pants, Usagi thought with a frown, even though she'd told him not to.

"Did I wake you?" she asked, and he shook his head. She held the coffee up, like a peace offering. "Um, how are you feeling this morning?" Her voice sounded tight, even to her. _This is Mamoru!_ She scolded herself. _You don't need to be nervous around him..._

He took the coffee from her and walked to the sofa, sitting down and gingerly putting the cup on the coffee table. He swallowed. "I've been better."

Usagi giggled, a bit too high pitched, and cringed it down.

"Well, Nurse Usagi is here to take care of you," she said, bustling to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. "Did you need Tylenol?"

"Usagi-," his voice was a bit hoarse. Curiously, Usagi peeked her head around and saw him sitting with this palms pressed against his forehead, elbows on his knees. He was drawn into himself, shoulders hunched, like he was trying to make his lanky body as small as possible.

"Mamoru?" she asked, gently. All nervousness vanished, the need to care for someone she loved who was in pain - that was wholly familiar to Usagi.

She went up to him, touching his shoulder. He flinched away from her touch, and she recoiled in shock. In her entire life - even when she was a middle school uniformed walking disaster of flying shoes and discarded test papers - Mamoru had never, ever flinched from her.

It took her breath away with hurt.

"Please go," he said, so quietly she thought she misheard.

"What?" she managed to say.

"Please go," he choked out, fingers tensing on his head, shoulders shaking. His voice was hoarse, barely a plea. "Please… just leave."

"Oh..." she said, confusion clouding her mind for a moment. "Okay..." She automatically backed up and was a few steps from the door before she realized what was happening in a white hot sear of hurt and anger.

He was kicking her out. _He was kicking her out?!_

"I see. Yeah, _you_ can barge in my apartment any time you want because you heard the floor squeak or something, but I- I'm not allowed to take care of you or even _be_ here-" her voice was starting to break and she was in serious danger of bursting into tears so instead she concentrated on feeling the anger boiling inside her.

Anger was so much easier.

She continued, "I don't have _your_ spare key, or even your phone number, but that's because it's just me, Disaster Usagi, what could I possibly do to help?!"

She saw him dig his hands into his hair, pulling on the strands, but he didn't say anything. "You know, you didn't exactly have a problem with me being here last night!" she added, and instantly regretted it when he visibly flinched.

"Usagi-"

"No, don't," she said, hurriedly putting on her shoes. Because if he apologized, if he _apologized to her_ she was going to _kill him._ "I'm gonna go."

She tossed a "Feel better" over her shoulder and closed the door very gently without even a slam.

Back in her apartment, she threw some pillows around the room and sent her friends a very angry "BOYS R SO STUPID!" text, ordered some KFC delivery, and only then, finally, did she start to cry.

* * *

"Okay, let's rehash this one more time," Makoto said, leaning her cheek on her fist and looking at Usagi intently.

"Do we really have to?" Ami asked, fingernails tapping on her porcelain tea cup. "I think the advice will be the same no matter how many times she tells us the story."

Minako sighed, wrapping an arm around Usagi. "Sorry about the date, kiddo." She sighed. "I had no idea how far gone you were over Chiba or I never would'v-"

Usagi forced out a dry laugh. " _I_ had no idea how gone I was over him so... no one could blame you."

"You need to talk to him," Ami said, and Makoto nodded sagely.

"But-," Usagi pouted, eyes dropping, "he basically kicked me out of his place like he couldn't stand the sight of me." She picked up the crumbs left over from her giant pancake and licked them off her finger, glumly.

"Yeah," Rei said, with the air of someone intimately familiar with telling Usagi to leave, "'cause he was probably _freaking out_ , Usagi. After what he tried on you while he was drunk? And what you said to him when you left? He probably just needed like, a few minutes of peace. To think." She took a sip of her soda. "You can't get that with you around. Just sayin'."

Usagi gave her a muttered, "That wasn't a compliment."

"Wasn't meant to be."

"Look," Ami said, "there have been a lot of mixed signals on both sides here."

"Mostly his side," Minako said.

"Well, in any case, don't you think just sitting down and telling him how you feel will make things better for you both? Mamoru isn't a cruel person. Even if he doesn't feel the same way-"

Minako huffed, muttering: "then maybe he shouldn't be all up on her every chance he gets-"

"-than at least it clears the air," Ami finished, clearly talking over Minako. "I can't imagine he'd treat you any differently."

"And, _then_ we can work on getting you over him!" Minako said, pulling out her phone to search out host clubs. Makoto put a hand on her arm, shaking her head slightly.

"Bonus is, you won't have to sneak out of your apartment after watching for him to leave every day like a crazy stalker," Makoto added. "Just to make sure you don't run into him unexpectedly."

Usagi sighed. "I guess..."

Minako suddenly sat up straighter, her eyes catching someone's across the Crown Cafe. "Let's get the advice of someone who knows him better!" Minako suggested. "Hey 'Toki! Get that cute butt over here!" she shouted, waving her arms and turning the heads of nearly everyone else trying to enjoy a quiet lunch in the cafe.

"Can the rest of me come too?" Motoki said, pulling a chair up to the table and sitting on it backwards, grinning at the girls with his usual friendly smile.

"Sure, sure," Minako said, generously. "So, I have a question - just theoretically - we are chatting about boys and confessions and stuff."

"Okay."

"What would someone like... I don't know, let's just say, your friend Chiba do if someone confessed to him, and he didn't feel the same way back?"

"Based on past experience?" Motoki said, "Awkwardly avoid her forever. Why?"

Usagi put her head down on the table.

"Okay," Ami jumped in, "what if this was someone he considered a close, personal friend? Surely he'd behave differently if that was the case."

Motoki blinked. "A _close friend_? That narrows it a lot." He laughed. "Let's see, _I'm_ married, Unazuki sees him as a brother, Asanuma... well, I can see why you'd think that, but Asanuma just wants to _be_ Mamoru, he doesn't want bone Mamoru. I think I've just listed all his close friends."

Usagi lifted her head and glared at Minako. "See?" she snapped. "I'm not even on the list of his close friends!" She rolled her eyes, ticking off on her fingers. "Don't have his number, don't know about his fish, don't have his spare key, Motoki doesn't even consider me one of his _friends-"_

Motoki was following the conversation with confused blue eyes, and then something seemed to click in his expression. "Waitaminute, this isn't hypothetical at all!" he accused.

Ami quietly shared an exasperated expression with Rei.

Motoki turned his gaze to Usagi, "It's you?" he said.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Doesn't matter," she mumbled.

"It does," he said, firmly, reaching across the table and taking her hand, making her look up at him. "Usagi, seriously. You need to talk to him. I promise he won't avoid you. You are too important to him."

Usagi looked at Motoki uncertainly. He wasn't just her friend: he was one of her oldest friends, before she even met the girls - her 'big brother', whom she trusted explicitly, who always looked out for her, her first teenage crush before she knew what a 'crush' really was - when all it meant was someone who made you feel safe and valued - and finally she nodded. "Okay, Motoki-onee-chan," she said. "If you think so."

He grinned again, squeezing her hand. "I've never known you to hide your feelings, Usagi," he winked. "Doesn't suit you."

She smiled back and he let go of her hand, stood awkwardly and brushed his hands off on his pants. "Welp, I'm off to check on how Unazuki is running this place - see you guys around, okay?"

The girls gave him a series of 'laters' and 'byes' and he took off with a wave.

"So...," Makoto asked Usagi, gently. "Have you decided what you are going to do?"

"Well, for starters, I'm gonna order another giant pancake."

* * *

That night, Usagi settled down in her makeshift bed - her blanket and comforter she'd pulled down the hall from her bedroom and arranged in a rather comfy pile by her living room wall. She threw a bunch of pillows around it too, so it resembled more a nest than a bed.

It was silly she knew, but she'd been sleeping there - against the only wall in the apartment she shared with Mamoru - for two nights - ever since he'd told her to leave his apartment.

That had been, she came to realize, the first time in her entire life Chiba Mamoru had ever, _ever_ actually told her to go away. Even when they were younger, for all his teasing, his eye-rolls, his accusations of her causing headaches with flying shoes, loud screams, and other Usagi-isms, he'd never dismissed her, never told her to go, _never_ told her to leave him alone. And even lately, for all her crazy schemes with the balcony and the ice and the banging on his door at all hours, he never didn't allow her in.

And now it was gone. She avoided him in the hallways and elevators, afraid of what she'd see in his eyes. Afraid that he hated her now, for her the cruelty of her words that night and the next morning, and her avoidance of him how, and how they'd ruined the delicate balance of what they had.

Usagi blinked back tears. Her timing was always so awful.

Because now she'd finally figured out how deeply, unquestionably, and _annoyingly_ in love with him she was. Maybe had always been.

And now they weren't _even speaking_.

Her friends had advised she talked to him, Motoki had practically begged her to, but it was Makoto who finally broke through at the end. She put her strong, kind hand on Usagi's shoulder and said, "Ya know, girl, he is probably miserable thinking you hate him now, too."

Thinking about that now, Usagi's lip trembled and she put her hand to the wall, where she knew he must be sleeping, just a few feet away. Or was he awake too? Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Their friendship at least, even if he didn't love her the way she loved him, he must care for her. He wouldn't have put up with her craziness as much as he did, if he didn't at least _like_ her quite a lot.

Maybe she could tell him. Tell him, she was sorry she reacted the way she did. But love makes you crazy, doesn't it?

And he had to be careful, from now on, with touches and kisses and alcohol and bodily reactions to her, because he held her heart in his hands, now. _So let's be friends, Mamo-chan,_ she thought, pressing her hand against the wall. _If you'll let me back in. And I can keep my feelings in check, I promise._

Okay. She would talk to him tomorrow. And either lose him forever, or fix what friendship they could salvage.

Her eyes filled with tears and she shut them and let sleep fall over her like a soft blanket, as she curled against the wall separating them. _Just please, Mamo-chan, let me stay close to you._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TY to IV and FO and everyone!

The next day, Usagi agonized over her manga chapter, agonized outside Mamoru's doorway, took a break from agonizing to get a cheese bun and Pocky from the convenience store next door, and then agonized while eating the bun in the elevator, only to walk right into Mamoru in the hallway when she emerged.

"Oh! Sorry!" She looked at him wide-eyed, shopping bag hanging from her wrist, glad she at least had the foresight to throw on some mascara that morning, and that her flip-flops where nowhere to be seen. "Did you- are you- you, um... going to work?"

He shook his head. "I just got back."

"Oh, okay..."

"I was actually going to, uh," he pushed some hair back from his face, she noticed a tightening around his eyes as he cringed a bit, "knock on your door."

"Oh." Usagi blinked. "Erm, well, come inside then!"

Soon, Usagi had the Pocky box opened on the coffee table in a display of hospitality, and she helped herself to one as she sat sideways on the sofa facing Mamoru, almost apprehensively. He seemed tense, and it was rubbing off on her, even thought at least he wasn't curling himself into a tiny ball this time...

"I'm so sor-"

"I owe you an apol-"

They both spoke and then quieted at the same time.

Usagi swallowed the last of her Pocky and tried again, "I said some really mean things to you and I'm soooo sorry, Mamoru! I didn't mean it! I am so grateful for all the times you've helped me!"

He shook his head. "I acted inappropriately toward you when drunk and the next morning I... I was unforgivably rude," he said, clearing his throat a little. "I am sorry."

_Acted inappropriately..._ She could still feel his lips behind her ear, scorching up her neck. It hurt that it meant so little to him.

She shrugged, focusing on the second part of his apology. "Well, you were hungover, and I'm loud, I can be annoying..." she laughed a little, forced a light-hearted shrug.

"No," he said, almost forcefully and then seemed surprised at his outburst and blinked a few times, shaking his head. Usagi noticed he was opening and closing his hands in his lap. "No, you... it wasn't you I just... I'm sorry."

Without even thinking about it, Usagi reached out and curled her fingers around his, stilling his nervous movements. His fingers were cool to the touch, and stilled upon her comforting squeeze.

"Listen," Usagi said. "There's something you should know." She took a deep breath, and spoke to their entwined hands. _Ok, Tsukino, it's now or never._ "I never hated you."

He gave an incredulous huff and made her bristle and almost giggle. "Well, at least for _most_ of the time I knew you I didn't actually hate you!" she insisted and he laughed a little, and she let out a puff of air, taking back her hand and crossing her arms with a pout.

Each little action was like a crack in a board covering a window, and finally his laugh broke it open, letting sunlight stream in. Awkwardness broken, and Usagi thought: _this_ is how it is supposed to be.

What was she thinking? Serious talks, apologies, declarations and confessions - that wasn't _them_. If what it took to keep things between her and Mamoru normal, this comfortable status quo, well, then... Usagi could certainly swallow her feelings. Sure, it wasn't something she was used to doing, but most people did it all the time and honestly, how hard could it be?

_Just pretend you aren't in love with the guy. Easy._

"You know it's dinner time," Mamoru said, eyeing Usagi as she chowed down on another Pocky.

"Really?" Wrinkling her nose, Usagi leaned back to glance into the kitchen at the clock on her microwave. "That explains why I was hungry."

"Did you want to go grab something to eat?" he offered, half standing.

"Always!"

She grabbed a few Pocky for the road, even while Mamoru half-rolled his eyes and she giggled at his annoyance (normal, normal, normal) as she followed him to the door.

Passing by, he looked at her 'nest' of blankets and pillows curiously, and Usagi felt heat rush to her face. She'd been planning on confessing her love, and explaining her sleeping against their shared wall with honesty (however weird and creepy it seemed to her now) but since she'd gone to Plan B: Hide Everything, she'd have to do some fast thinking.

"There was a spider," she explained, quickly. "A huuuuge one! All hairy and gross and jumpy and... so... well, the bedroom belongs to the spider now..."

"Ah," he said, with a nod and raised eyebrows.

"And this is the furthest I can sleep from the bedroom and still be in the apartment," she stretched out her arms, "so... in case, you know, it decides to attack in my sleep and attempt to extend its spidery territory..."

"Of course," Mamoru nodded, "as spiders are wont to do."

"Sure, sure, I think I saw it on a nature show," she said, leaning down to pull on her canvas sneakers. The genkan was a bit small for them both to tie their shoes without brushing elbows, and each accidental touch sent a fissure of lightning down Usagi's spine.

In the elevator, she tried and failed not to focus on the soft fringe of hair falling into his too-blue eyes, the slow way his lips pulled into a smirk, the broadness of his shoulders even as he hunched them, hands in his pockets, leaning against the elevator wall as cool as can be. She teased him about work, about the same-ness of his outfits, and he sighed over her eating in the elevator and licking the chocolate off her fingers as the last of the Pocky disappeared into her mouth.

Despite his much longer legs, Usagi noticed they walked in stride with each other (had they always? did she ever notice before?) and every so often their knuckles would brush against each other. The need to grab his hand, to tell him to stop - he either had to touch her for real or never touch her at all! - was so overwhelming Usagi wanted to cry.

"How about here?" Mamoru said, stopping by a diner that specialized in omu-rice and parfait confections. "They have good desserts here, and I know you like that."

Usagi managed to nod around the lump in her throat.

"Dinner can be my treat," Mamoru said, scooting into a booth that the hostess waved them to.

"What? Why?" Usagi argued. "Last I checked, you actually pay rent."

"And last I checked, _I_ actually have a job." That amused sparkle was in his eyes, (how had she ever hated it?) and Usagi had to busy herself with the menu before she launched herself across the table and into his lap, begging him to at least give her a chance to win him over.

The waitress came and took their order, and Usagi shifted to her knees, bouncing a bit, and they chatted about her manga, her apartment, and Mamoru suggested maybe he could see if he could help with the spider.

"What spider?"

"The one that banished you from your bedroom?"

"Oh! Ha ha ha ha right," she laughed nervously, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I'm sure it's gone now. I'll just go back in the room tonight..."

He held his fork and knife so gracefully while he ate, Usagi noticed. Meanwhile, she realized she was devouring her omu-rice - shoveling another forkful in her mouth before she even finished the first one, swallowing in giant gulps. It was how she always ate, and she wasn't ashamed, just noticing yet _another_ difference between them. And it was lovely to watch him, long fingers and delicate mouth. He ate like a prince.

"You okay?" he asked and Usagi started up, realizing she'd lowered her spoon in her hand and was looking at him almost slackjawed.

"Fine!" she grinned, scrapping the last of her omu-rice up in her spoon. _Just watching you eat. That's a totally normal thing people do, right?_

The waitress returned to the table. "Is everything okay here?" she directed her question to Mamoru. "Can I get you anything else?"

He looked at Usagi with that knowing light in his eyes, a half smile on his face. "Dessert, I'm sure, right, Usagi?"

It was probably only the third time in her entire 23 years on the planet that Usagi ever turned down dessert. She couldn't sit across from Mamoru for another second. And was the waitress trying to catch his eye with a flirtatious smile? _Kill me nooooowwww,_ Usagi begged the gods.

"Just the bill, please," Usagi said, her voice ending in a squeak. Mamoru looked her in surprise bordering on shock and she made a face back at him. What? she could have self-control sometimes. Besides, there was ice cream in her fridge back home, she knew.

"Separate checks, I assume?" the waitress said, making a mark in her booklet.

"Together, please," Mamoru said smoothly, and the girl's face dropped just a tiny bit even as she nodded briskly and professionally, leaving a slip of paper in the clear plastic cylinder on the table.

"That was so rude!" Usagi couldn't help bursting out with, as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.

"What was?" Mamoru said, taking the slip of paper and smoothing it between his hand and the table in a movement Usagi thought was entirely unfair.

"Just assuming we weren't together!" she seethed. "I mean," she added quickly, "I know we aren't, but like. For all she knew! We could've been on a date! Or something! Or, like, engaged even!"

"I'm sure it wasn't anything like that," he said dismissively.

"But she was flirting with you," Usagi hissed under her breath as they walked up to the cashier.

Mamoru gave her a 'get real' look and Usagi bristled again. "Uh... she was definitely giving you 'eyes'."

"Eyes?"

"Oh my god, does this happen to you so much you don't even _notice_!?"

By this time, Mamoru had paid the bill (to another server working the cashier, thank goodness) and walked a agitated Usagi out of the restaurant.

He chuckled. "Okay, show me these 'eyes'."

Usagi rolled her eyes, looked up at him, then batted her lashes in an exaggerated way. He burst out laughing.

"Oh, come on, Usagi."

"Okay, okay," she said, tugging on his sleeve until he came to a stop. "It's like this."

And Usagi did it the real way, the way she did when she was trying to get an extra flavor shot in her cream frapp at Starbucks without paying for it, when she and Minako were trying to flirt their way into a club, when she was trying to get her math tutor in high school to forget quadratic equations for, like, five seconds (turns out he was gay so that was a bit of a no-go). She looked at him, tilted her head a bit, made her eyes a little too wide, her lips a little pouty, and blinked a few times, slowly.

He froze. A hint of color appeared on his cheeks. She figured he was probably realizing all the times girls had done that to him and he had no idea what they were trying to do. Idiot.

"Like _that_ , baka." She punched his arm lightly, and marched ahead of him toward their place, ignoring the tingling in her knuckles where they'd brushed the muscular warmth of this upper arm, beneath the starched coolness of his shirt.

Two long strides and he caught up with her, hands back in his pockets. "Sure, sure, Odango Atama. I didn't notice the waitress doing anything like that."

"Good thing you went into medicine and not detective work," she huffed, pulling open their lobby doors after he punched in the code.

She didn't even know where this newfound annoyance was coming from, all she knew was she'd _skipped dessert_ to get away from the torture of resisting the magnetic pull he had toward her, and somehow it seemed to be multiplying on her and... ugh.

In the elevator, she leaned against the wall and bit at her nail, deep in thought. So, she'd have to do this for the rest of her life?! While he dated around and got married and had little baby-Mamorus who ran around talking about photons or whatever in kindergarten and _oh my god_. _No, no I'll die._

_Wait, though,_ she thought, _I only have to do this until I get_ over _him._

Right, people don't stay in unrequited love forever! Soon enough she'd get over Mamoru, find her perfect man, and she'd get married and have little baby-Usagis who ran around eating the last piece of cake out from everyone.

"Usagi? Usagi? Hey, Odango Atama!"

She blinked and snapped out of her thoughts to Mamoru holding the elevator door open on their floor, looking at her with incredulous exasperation.

"Sorry, jeeze," _s_ he said.

"It's okay," he said, and as she passed by to leave the elevator he gently put his hand on her back, leading her out, and sensation of his fingertips sent goosebumps rising on her skin.

"Anyway, thanks-for-dinner-it-was-great-I'm-glad-we-worked-everything-out-have-a-good-night-see-you-soon-bye!" she said, rushing to her door as fast as she could before she just, like, jumped him in the hallway.

_I've gotta get better at this eventually right?_ Usagi thought, as she rummaged in her purse for her keys. _It's like anything! Practice makes perfect._

The more time she spent burying her feelings, the better she'd get at it. But right now, what she needed more than anything was a break from Mamoru's perfect face because she was about to pop like a damn balloon.

But where the hell were her keys?!

No.

Nooooooo.

"Locked out?"

Did he have to sound so amused and smug about it?

Taking a moment to collect herself, Usagi turned and schooled her face into a self-depreciating smile. "Oops," she said, with a giggle.

* * *

And that's how she found herself standing awkwardly in Mamoru's genkan, while he walked to the kitchen to retrieve her spare key.

It wasn't buried in a mess of clutter or in a junk drawer somewhere, or anything like hers would've been, but no, Mr. Organized had it hanging next to his own keys and medical ID, on a hook by his calendar. So he could get it quickly. In case she needed him.

Her eyes filled with tears and it was suddenly very hard to breathe. She curled her toes in her shoes and clutched at the handle of her purse. The edges of the room were starting to close in on her.

"Here you go," he said, holding it out to her easily. His face knitted a bit in concern. "Usagi, are you okay? You look pale."

"I LOVE YOU!" she cried. "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"

And just like that, it was like she could breathe again, tension uncoiling in her shoulders and stomach all at once. "I'm in love with you," she said, softer this time. She nodded, feeling at peace.

Then, "Thanks!" she said, snatching the keys out of his shocked hand and leaving the apartment in a whirl of golden hair.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the feedback, kudos, comments and everything! I am so glad you enjoyed the last chapter and that you are enjoying this story. I've certainly been enjoying writing it for you all.
> 
> A deep and special thank you to Irritablevowel for the spitpolish she gives all my fics, and the endless back and forth I have with her and Floraone now that I've discovered google docs to the determent of all.

Mamoru leaned against the elevator wall and shut his eyes. He felt sweaty in the unseasonable warmth.

One upside to coming home from work on a Saturday night was no rush hour train packed with businessmen in dark suits pushed together like sardines - but it did mean rowdy groups of young college kids and 20-somethings shouting plans loudly into their cell phones ( _just meet at Hachiko,_ he mentally shouted at them, _you always meet at Hachiko_ ) and shooting him strange looks while he just tried to doze against the window. As if they were wondering how someone who looked their same age was acting like an 80-year-old grandpa. Considering Mamoru was looking forward to unwinding with half a glass of sake and watching NHK before bed, they were pretty much right, he thought, almost sourly.

The elevator dinged and Mamoru peeled himself from the elevator's cool wall. He exited, already reaching for his keys when he looked up and mentally jumped, seeing none other than Tsukino Usagi standing outside his neighbor's door. She met his eyes with startled, wide blue ones and looked almost… nervous.

He looked at her in confusion. Why was she here? Unsettlingly, he felt almost like he'd forgotten some enormously important event, on par with Motoki's wedding (which he had been in, as best man, not even a year ago. It was a lovely night, spent ducking the unwanted advances of Reika's maid of honor and feeling Motoki's elbow in his side every time he spent a bit too long staring longingly at Usagi's table) or some other mutual friend's issue that had to be earth-shattering enough to bring the likes of Tsukino Usagi herself to his doorstep.

Although he was fluent in two languages and converstant in two more, the only words that came to him were:

"Odango Atama?"

She bristled immediately, hands coming to her hips, bubblegum pink lips forming a scowl. "You forget my name or something?"

He recovered quickly enough, having realized that yes, okay, Usagi was standing in front of him in the flesh (and a tank top and shorts) and while it wasn't the evening he was picturing, he could roll with this.

"Of course not, Tsukino-sama," he said. "Who could?"

Usagi huffed suspiciously at the new polite tone he was taking. "So you live here?" she asked, eyeing his door. She leaned back against the wall between the two doors, kicking her bare toes into the carpet a bit. Mamoru tried not to cringe. She shouldn't be out here without at least slippers!

"Yes," he answered, confused for a moment. Why was she here, if she didn't know that?

"Well, then I guess I'm your new temporary neighbor," she said. She bowed. " _Douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu._ "

"Y-you're-" He shut his eyes, remembering Tawase Yui mentioning that her assistant would be house sitting for her while she was in China. The manga artist was quiet and kept to herself, much like Mamoru did, and he remembered assuming that the housesitter would be stopping by to get her mail and clean now and then… not living there. And not being Usagi.

"Yup," she said, lifting her pert little chin up to him, almost in challenge. Daring him to say anything. "Right next door. All day, every day."

With practiced nonchalance, Mamoru kept his face as blank as could be. "Well, Tsukino-sama, please let me know if you need anything. I look forward to seeing you around. Have a good night."

She narrowed her eyes, pouting adorably. His polite language was driving her crazy, he could tell, but she couldn't say anything about it because what could she say? 'You are being too nice and it's pissing me off?'

He gave a small bow, unable to keep the smile off his face as he turned to unlock his door. It was closing behind him when he heard her soft "...Bye."

And he had to lean against the inside of the door, not moving, for far, far too long, while her voice echoed in his mind.

* * *

The very next time he saw her, she'd locked herself out and barged into his Usagi-free sanctuary with all the delicacy of a typhoon, thanking him for the coincidence of having Tawase's spare key with a hug that smelled like strawberries and vanilla and didn't leave him all day long and well into the night.

It wasn't long after that she knocked on his door again and when he opened it she rolled her eyes and huffed in annoyance. "Finally, you are actually home!"

"My shifts can be unpredictable," he said.

"Anyway, here," Usagi said, holding out a key in her palm. He had to graze his fingertips on her palm to take it. "I'll probably lock myself out again."

"I'll do my best to be home when you do."

She smiled, and that didn't leave him either.

He swore he smelled her shampoo in the elevator, in the hallway. He heard the murmurings of the television shows she watched late at night (he supposed aspiring manga artists- _cum_ -admin temps didn't necessarily keep early hours) through his bedroom wall and the bass of the music she listened to in the morning as she got ready.

Although the apartment building had a dryer, she hung her delicates out on her balcony, so he knew far too much about the color of her panties than he felt he should, really.

As Motoki would say, "This isn't conducive to letting go." But Mamoru hadn't _asked_ the girl of his dreams to move next door to him. He hadn't told her to walk around in adorable mismatched pajamas on laundry day, hair damp and down and spiraling around her face.

He didn't expect her to throw a karaoke party, get drunk and tumble into his arms, slurring and damp-eyed, begging him to tell her she was beautiful.

He _certainly_ didn't want her building teetering towers of pillows and chairs in order to change her fire alarm, nearly killing herself.

Tsukino Usagi entered his life all those years ago with a flying test paper in his face, and a screaming fit when he'd even mentioned that perhaps she ought to study more. (Oh, okay, in hindsight he'd been obnoxious, but in his defense, he'd never seen a grade below a 90, let alone a 30.) Somewhere between the shoes hitting his head and her failing grades (that he always ended up seeing somehow), he'd noticed the crowd of people that seemed to flock to Usagi - the close-knit group of friends that surrounded her - classmates and peers and even Unazuki and Motoki and elementary school kids, and everyone, really.

And about when he realized why, well of course it was the sunlight in her smile and the warmth in her giggle and the genuine kindness in her eyes, he realized he'd become one of them. Helpless to the pull of her warmth.

But there was also the swing of her hips when she walked, the shimmer of her hair, the shape of her lips, the curve of her legs beneath her skirt… about then he realized how desperately he _wanted_ her, and how she merely _tolerated_ him. Usagi could be friends with anyone, but Mamoru she kept at arm's length. Sure, if he really needed her, she'd be there, same as everyone. He had no doubt she cared for him, deep down, the way she did for any of her friends, but there was a defensiveness about her whenever she looked at him. As if daring him to say anything. Mamoru was no stranger to walls, and he just watched her through them. Teasing was as close as he ever got to the truth.

After he graduated high school, they saw each other less, and after she graduated, even less. Soon it was every so often - a mutual friend's party or event, running into each other at the arcade, just a few times a year. Mamoru dated, he lived his life, he went entire days when Usagi didn't even enter his mind. But every time he saw her it all came back.

She was perfection to him. Everything he could ever want in one stubborn little odango'ed package. A petite blonde disaster nightmare. Who smelled like strawberries and vanilla.

And now she lived next door.

* * *

Mamoru never slept well in hotels. Perhaps it was something to do with being away from home - the uncomfortable reminder of a childhood spent untethered. Or maybe the pillows were just crappy, he reflected, who really knew.

The medical conference was decent enough, he knew some peers and managed to balance small talk with alone time, but the noisy ice machine down the hall was no substitute for Usagi's bubblegum pop music and midnight fire alarms.

Although now he was counting the minutes until he could return to Tokyo, he initially thought the timing of trip was fortuitous - after the embarrassing incident during the power outage, all he'd wanted to do was get away for awhile.

What had he been thinking, honestly? Walking into her apartment in soccer shorts when he _knew_ what she was wearing, had already seen her nonchalant attitude - standing in his kitchen like it was any other day, as if she _wasn't_ barely covered in shiny thin fabric, mouth around an ice cube, hair curling around her neck with sweat. After years of secretly lusting after Usagi, Mamoru knew not to trust his own body around her, and yet he still followed her into that apartment, where he _knew_ she was waiting in that skimpy swimsuit with a bath full of ice and a penchant for klutz attacks. And he was supposed to be the smart one?

And now he was picturing it all over again, the way the ice cube landed between her breasts, her gasp at the cold, the response of her nipples through the thin fabric. He'd told himself not to look, not to _dwell_ , because dear god, he was already halfway there and if she _noticed_...

And then she did notice, because she slipped, and was _on_ him, all elbows and hair and impossibly long legs. His body didn't listen to his mind when Usagi's stomach was pressed against his erection and her breath was on his neck and he swore he felt her lips brush his skin… but she was struggling to stand and he was trying to make sure she didn't hit her head and a million things were happening at once and he was so turned _on_ and felt so _apologetic_ about it and…

And now he was thinking about it again.

Because of course he was.

For the fourth time in half an hour, he picked up his phone, only to remember he didn't have her phone number. (How was that even possible? How had he never asked for it, even for 'emergencies'?) Oh well. Asanuma would mention if there was any issue with her, he was sure. The man was texting daily updates on the state of Mamoru's houseplants for Pete's sake.

Sighing, Mamoru leaned back into the (way too soft) pillow and tried for the third time to fall asleep.

* * *

After their totally-not-a-date at the omu-rice restaurant and her demonstration of the 'eyes' the waitress had allegedly been giving him, (which he never noticed, while Usagi's version left his mouth dry and briefly short circuited his mind,) Mamoru watched Usagi in the elevator. An array of emotions splayed across her face in rapid succession: concern, then horror, then relief, then sadness…

She didn't even blink when the elevator arrived at their floor and opened, or respond to him calling her name.

Finally he went with: "Hey, Odango Atama!"

Usagi looked at him as if coming out of a deep sleep. He must have had an annoyed expression on his face, because she immediately bristled.

"Sorry, _jeeze_ ," she said, huffing past him.

Without thinking, he guided her out of the elevator with the pads of his fingers on her back, and regretted it the instant he felt her tense beneath his touch. He pulled his hand back.

_Why_ had he gotten so drunk that night? Usagi had dated in the past, and while he hadn't loved it, it never had bothered him so much, but somehow now the idea of her with someone else had simply gutted him.

Mamoru hadn't even been able to stay in his apartment, not in his bedroom where she'd slept that time she was sick, not in that damn building that smelled like her perfume. He went to a bar he knew near the hospital, where his coworkers sometimes went. He let the first few shots burn their way down, and it got easier after that, he soon lost count. There were people there he knew, a lab tech from work, and an intern, and they ended up calling him a cab when everything had gotten too fuzzy around the edges.

He wished he didn't remember the cab ride, drunkenly lying back in the seat, asking the driver, "But _why_ does her hair have to be so _pretty_ though?"

Everything after that was a dizzy blur, Usagi's soft voice and softer hands, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing back his hair and _god he had to taste her skin or he would die, couldn't she see that?_ Sitting up clumsily, curling fingers around her waist, tracing his mouth along her neck - was he babbling out loud how sweet she was, how much he needed her, how desperately he wanted her - or was he merely thinking it? He only vividly, sharply remembered her scrambling away, her face a mask of horror and tears. It was a mistake, the whole thing was a wrong, terrible mistake and Mamoru would pay for it in any way he could, for as long as it took.

Between his far-too-obvious physical reaction to her falling on him in the bikini, and his utterly unforgivable behavior while intoxicated, it would be no wonder if Usagi saw him as some dirty old man. Maybe she did. Maybe he was. He didn't even know anymore.

At the door next to him, Usagi was rummaging in her bag with a growing look of panic on her face.

Despite his inner turmoil, Mamoru couldn't help the smile that pulled on his face. Usagi was nothing if not… just completely and utterly Usagi. No matter what.

"Locked out?"

She giggled, twirled a strand of that impossibly beautiful hair around one finger. "Oops?"

Usagi decided to loiter in the genkan, and Mamoru supposed he couldn't blame her. She seemed so eager to get away, and that was alright. He'd give her her space, and little by little earn her trust again and maybe then… they could be friends.

He'd live with that. He'd been living with that. Never mind that now it seemed so much more impossible than it had just a few short months ago.

"Here you go," he said, holding her spare key out to her. Then he looked at her face, and started. "Usagi, are you okay? You look pale."

"I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" she burst out, and then her whole demeanor relaxed, and she looked at him, right in his eyes with her blue, blue ones. Those impossibly perfect lips pulled into what could almost be a smile. "I'm in love with you." Usagi let out a breath. "Phew."

She took the key from his frozen hand, and turned like a dancer doing a pirouette. "Thanks!"

The door had been closed behind her for a good five full seconds before Mamoru remembered to breathe.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't the last chapter, about one more than an epilogue.
> 
> Thank you to you guys know who you are!

Usagi’s satisfaction lasted until about forty-five seconds after her door closed and locked behind her (and she was already rummaging through the fridge for a celebratory shou cream) when she heard the knock on her door.

She whined out loud in frustration, which she was sure Mamoru heard from the other side of the door.

 _Can’t he just let me have this?!_ she groused internally. Just a few minutes of that post-confession relief, that in-love high, before it all comes crashing down with his ‘we should probably talk about this.’

He knocked again, this time calling, “Usagi?” in that gentle, coaxing way of his that he did sometimes when she was especially ornery. Like she was some kind of wild animal that might bolt.

“Usagi, you have my key…”

She glared at the offending item, where she’d tossed it on the countertop just moments before. Surely she could return it tomorrow? At least give her a night to shore up some _preparation_ for a post by-the-way-I’m-in-love-with-you outburst.

But even Usagi had enough self-awareness to know the chances of her locking herself out again were pretty high, and what would she do with _both_ her key and Mamoru’s spare left behind in her apartment?  

Besides, she supposed she owed him at least a face-to-face. Ugh, _maturity._ Usagi grabbed the key off the table and started speaking as she opened the door.

“Before you say anything,” she said, and he dutifully remained quiet, plucking his key from her outstretched hand and pocketing it, “I just want you to know that, like, I think you … probably shouldn’t _rush_ to an answer because nothing really has to change between us if you don’t want it to, but also Motoki said you tend to disappear on confessions and personally I’d rather you, ya know, _thought_ about giving us a chance - that is, _us_ as a, um, _thing_ , ya know? - but if the alternative is you ghosting please don’t do that? Like, if you need time then, I mean, take it, but please just continue to be my annoying neighbor in the meantime, okay? Because, um. I’d… miss you otherwise? 

As Usagi babbled, she worked her way into the apartment, hands moving with her speech, twirling nervously in her hair and skirt, until she ended up perched on the armrest of her sofa.  Mamoru followed her in a few steps, but hung back, leaning against the kitchen half-wall, watching her with an expression she couldn’t read. He remained silent.

Usagi huffed in annoyance, bouncing a little. “Well?!” she said, causing him to blink.

“Oh, I can talk now?” he said, raising his brows a little. Usagi couldn’t tell if he was being snarky or sincerely asking, the cobalt blue of his eyes unreadable.

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms and pouting. Honestly, how was he making _this_ infuriating

“Please,” she said. And then it hit her how nervous she was, and she tried desperately to hold onto the annoyance but it slipped away like jello through chopsticks and disappeared into the anxiety churning in her stomach. “Wait! No, one more thing-” She exhaled, lifting her bangs from her forehead with a puff of air. “I know I sprung this on you and I know you like to think about things, so if you wanna, like, table this for later, give yourself more time-“

“I don’t need more time,” he said. In contrast to her babbling, his voice was smooth, his gaze steady when her darting eyes finally met his. “I’ve wanted to be with you since I was seventeen years old.”

“Oh,” she said. Then, “Wait. _What_?!” Her feet flew to the floor, and she took the three light-footed steps to him, searching his eyes as if to find some sort of hidden explanation behind them. “Since you were seventeen? That’s like….” for a moment she lowered her eyes, touching her fingers together as she counted.

“Nine,” he supplied.

“Nine years!” she said. “You’ve liked me for nine years! And you’ve never _said anything?! Or done anything?! Or even hinted or-”_ Usagi was struck silent then, all their years together in a silent rewind in her mind’s eye. His amused smile, his gentle teasing, that gleam in his eye she always mistook for smug arrogance but lately seemed to be fondness. Comments that could always be taken as flirtatious _or_ mocking… why had she always assumed the latter? It was like the floor had dropped out from under her.

She vividly remembered in high school, when Motoki had suggested Mamoru be her math tutor, she balked at the idea and Mamoru responded with a sardonic, “Motoki is really overestimating my imperturbability.” She’d had to go home and look up both local math tutors and the word _imperturbability_. New meaning flooded into every inadvertent touch, every sarcastic comment, every disinterested withdrawal from conversations about crushes, boyfriends, dates…

“But you’ve had dates!” Usagi protested. “And even girlfriends!” She wasn’t sure why she was feeling the need to _argue_ with him about his feelings for her, was arguing with Chiba Mamoru just her default now? Was she so set in her ways that she was just going to scream him right out of her apartment after he just confessed to her?! _Oh my god, he just confessed to me_ , she thought - and her shock hit her anew.  

“Amazingly I was able to have a life outside of pining for you,” he said, “until you ruined everything by moving next door to me.” Usagi realized she was within his reach now, when he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, the soft pads of his fingertips against her face sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. 

This wasn’t real. This had to be a dream. There was no way - _no way_ \- that Mamoru was standing in front of her ( _her_ Mamoru, from middle school, the brilliant upperclassman, the handsome older boy who was always so far out of her league she never even let herself _dream_ ) confessing he’d wanted her. No way his hand was still lingering by her face, thumb caressing the delicate skin by her ear, no way was he looking at her with those deep blue eyes so full of tenderness that she almost wanted to cry.

“Are you lying to me right now?” she accused, only half-joking. He gave her the ‘really?’ face he was oh-so-good at.

There had been so many almost moments, accidental brushes and unsure touches between them, that Usagi appreciated the very purposeful way he bent to capture her lips with his.

He kept his hand where it was gently cupping her cheek, fingers curling through the tendrils of hair at the base of her neck. His lips were hot, firm but gentle, melting into hers with a shuddering sigh that took her steadiness with it. Usagi was on her tiptoes, already off-balance and so Mamoru’s other hand, warm on her lower back, supported her as her knees gave out.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, delighting in the hardness of the muscle there, pressing her body against his and enthusiastically returning the kiss, opening her lips to his.  Slowly, he pulled back, dropping one last soft kiss onto her upper lip.

Fluttering her eyes open, Usagi looked at him dreamily for a moment, still clinging to his shoulders. “All that proves is that you are really good at kissing,” she managed, finally. “Which isn’t surprising considering you are good at everything.”

In response, he quirked his eyebrows in such an openly suggestive way that Usagi didn’t know whether to giggle or swoon.

“B-but how did you go nine years without _saying anything_ when I couldn’t even handle one _day_?!” she said, her shoulders slumping as she leaned her head into his chest. The buttons on his shirt pressed into her forehead and cheek, and she felt his chest rise and fall with his breathing. Although he was so calm and collected on the outside, his heartbeat was hammering in his chest. Usagi wound her arms around his waist and squeezed in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

“I also don’t get chased out of my room by spiders so…” he said. His gaze must have landed on Usagi’s makeshift bed.

“There wasn’t a spider,” she mumbled into his shirt, and his hand stilled from where it had been stroking her hair. “I just missed you.”

Although Mamoru didn’t answer her, she felt his breath catch. Maybe that was stalker-y enough he was about to ‘nevermind’ her and walk right out of there and move with no forwarding address. But then his breathing began again, with a shake in his chest that was almost a laugh. “So it was more than a day, maybe?”

“It might have been, yeah,” she admitted into the fabric of his shirt. “Maybe a lot longer. Maybe it was more like years. Maybe I just didn’t know.”

“That’s fair,” he murmured.

“If ya just _said_ something,” Usagi said, stepping back and pushing him a little, making an exaggerated pout to hide the sheen of tears in her eyes.

He shrugged awkwardly, a self-depreciating half-smile on those gorgeous lips of his. “You never seemed to like me much,” he said.

Usagi once again perched herself on the arm of the sofa, thinking. She tossed her hair and raised her fingers as if counting off. “Well, you were super hot and instead of showering me with flowers and compliments, you told me to study and made fun of my hair.”

His eyes twinkled. “First of all, I never made fun of your hair-”

“What do you call ‘Odango Atama’?” Her voice squeaked at the end. 

“It’s a nickname, because your hair is-,” he cleared his throat, “rather remarkable.”

“Uh-huh.” Usagi blushed a bit at the intensity of his gaze.

“And second of all,” he said, stepping closer to her and leaning against the sofa, his arms on either side of her, “what do you mean ‘ _were’_ super hot?”

“Oh, sorry you are past your prime now, old man,” Usagi said, wrinkling her nose slightly. Her eyes obeyed her commands not to slide their gaze down Mamoru’s fit body, or linger on the forearms exposed by his half-rolled up sleeves, or even glance over his cheekbones or ebony hair or anything but those startling blue eyes looking right into hers with an amused light. “But I love you anyway.”

She noticed the shift in his expression when she’d said those words - “I love you” - the slight widening of his eyes and enlarging of his pupils - the glint of joy and disbelief - and it made her heart twist. Usagi reached up and gently ran her fingers up his face, into the silky strands of his hair, feeling almost giddy with the fact that she _could_ just freely touch him like this, that it made his eyes close and a sigh escape his lips. She was still sitting on the armrest, his arms braced on either side of her, and it was so easy to straighten up her back and press her lips to his cheek, to his temple - tenderly, slowly.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured against his skin. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see. That I didn’t know enough to see.” 

Mamoru’s arms came up to wrap around her, lifting her up against him and crushing his lips to hers. Usagi wound her arms around his neck, keeping one hand buried in his hair, the other bracing around his shoulders. If their first kiss had been purposeful and tender, this one was frantic and passionate - his mouth coaxing hers open and his tongue caressing hers as she responded in kind. His scent surrounded her - that spicy, darkly floral aroma that she’d inhaled on his sheets, in his living room, whenever she’d had a chance to be close to him - and now she could _taste_ him too, melting like chocolate on her tongue.

She locked one long leg around his hip to steady herself, the broken moan it elicited from his throat sending a wave of desire through her. Thanks to the power outage, Usagi had recently become privy to the knowledge that Mamoru may have been able to maybe be physically attracted to her - under the exact right circumstances - but she’d clearly had _no_ idea of the reality of the situation. Well, it was certainly obvious _now._ Not that she was any better. Usagi couldn’t be smug about anything at the moment, when she could barely stand to come up for air, like it physically hurt not to be pressed against him, mouth on his.

After a few moments, Mamoru ended up guiding them a few feet over so he could sit her on the sofa, and she reluctantly - very reluctantly - disentangled her arms and legs from him.  

“So…,” she swallowed, curling up against him as he sat down next to her, swinging her legs across his lap and leaning her head on his shoulder. “What does this mean?”

“Hmm?” Mamoru looked over at her with slightly glassy eyes, fingers still caressing the strands of hair that had escaped from her buns.

“Does… this mean…. we should go on a date?” she said. “Or… I mean, technically we’ve hung out at each other’s places so much already…”

He continued to look at her, with an affection in his gaze she thought she might never grow used to, or tired of. “What do you want, Usagi?”

She flushed, eyes straying to her makeshift bed by the wall. It was obvious what she wanted, lovesick and pining, and she wasn’t ashamed of her feelings but she didn’t want to scare him off - not when he was finally in her arms.

Following her gaze, Mamoru squeezed her hand gently. “After you slept in my bed, I didn’t change my pillowcase for a week.”

She whipped around to look at him, wide-eyed. “Mamo-chan, I was sick!” Usagi realized her slip-up but he didn’t react to the nickname except with a slight intake of breath, instead, he nodded in response to her exclamation.

“Yeah, I know. It was incredibly poor judgement. But the pillow smelled like your shampoo. And I -” he paused, swallowed. “I think it’s clear now how crazy I was for you.”

She leaned forward, her nose almost touching his. “When you caught me after I fainted-”

“You scared me so badly-”

She interrupted with: “When you always saw me in my pajamas on laundry day?”

“I never knew I found flip-flops sexy until just then.”

“That time you laughed at me on the balcony with the bug-”

“Oh, that was just because it was hilarious…”

She grabbed a pillow and flung it at him, somehow missing spectacularly even though he was inches away, and he caught her cheek in his hand and kissed her again, close mouthed, soft, with a gentle suction on her lower lip as he pulled away.

“I want you to be my boyfriend,” Usagi said, before she even realized what she was saying. Mamoru kissed her cheek, her ear, his hands back in her hair.

“Yes,” he said, his mouth behind her ear, trailing down her neck.

“And… in a few months I’ll move out of here but…,” she sighed as his tongue darted out to taste the junction of her neck and her shoulder, “... I still don’t have your key… or even your phone number.” Her voice took on an annoyed edge, even as his breath on her skin was sending pricks of sensation down her spine.

“You can have my whole damn phone,” he mumbled into her skin, “my whole apartment, I don’t care, Odango Atama, everything is yours…”

“And you can’t call me Odango Atama anymore,” she said, firmly. His mouth was on the shell of her ear, hot and wet, and she fought down a moan.

He paused for a moment, then resumed kissing her. “Usako,” he murmured, then, and she sighed her approval, the affectionate name sending warmth flooding through her veins.

Mamoru hadn’t actually said it, Usagi knew, not out loud - but nine years of steadfastly standing by her side, of silent smirks and gentle teasing, of that amused light in his eyes - he loved her, had always loved her, and she’d been too blind to see it.

But not anymore.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! I'm so sorry to make you all wait this long for the ending but it's here! Now, this may not the be the last we see of this world, I don't know, but this is The End of the wacky neighbor AU I wrote on a whim so long ago. This chapter isn't as explicit as I originally thought it might be, but it's not G-rated either, so ... happy medium? ha ha.
> 
> let me know what you think! And check out my newest project, a collection of UsaMamo stories called Moonbeams and Lemon Dreams, the first chapter is a take on a curious trope, which three other fanfic writers are also trying their hand at.
> 
> Thanks to all my frands and my master beta (sorry for stealing from ykw) as always

Usagi stumbled out of her door, barefoot and yawning, cell phone clutched in her hand, hair a messy waterfall down her back. Mamoru stood by the elevator, blinking in surprise.

"That was… fast," he managed, slipping his phone into his pocket just in time, as he suddenly found his arms full of warm, sleepy girl. When they'd reluctantly parted ways after their mutual confession the previous evening, she'd told him to text her when he left for work, he didn't realize it was so she could make sure to get a hug goodbye.

"S-so early," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she looked up at him.

"It's eight o'clock," he pointed out as the elevator announced its arrival.

She snuggled her face into the starch of his shirt with a sigh, and his hands found their way to her pajama-clad waist. "Usako…" His voice was a gentle prodding but she paid it no mind and brushed a bare knee against his khakis.

"G'morning Mamo-chan," she mumbled, then lifted her face to look up at him, chin against his chest, eyes soft and half-lidded and laced with long, gorgeous lashes.

He ended up sending the elevator down empty. Twice.

* * *

Mamoru's ten hour shift turned into an eleven-and-a-half hour shift, and it was late when he dragged himself back out of the same elevator, shooting a longing look at Usagi's closed door. They had plans to see each other in the morning - his day off - because she knew he'd be coming home late and exhausted.

But still… part of him longed to knock and see if she was still awake, picturing her lounging on the sofa watching late-night tv with half-lidded eyes. He wondered if he'd hear the murmurings of the television through the wall of his bedroom, if an after-work phone call would be too forward, too rude, even if he knew she was already awake and so close. Shaking off his pathetic thoughts - he'd only just seen her, they'd only just gotten together, she'd been his girlfriend (the word still sent a shiver of disbelief down his spine) for less than 48 hours - surely he could be patient and wait until the light of day to see her again.

He didn't bother to turn on the light when he entered the apartment, just went through the usual routine: hanging up his coat and medical ID, emptying his pockets into the metal dish on the cabinet near the genkan, and setting his phone down on the counter. He was standing in the kitchen, loosening his tie and deciding between a glass of water or something stronger, when the knock came at the door.

* * *

Usagi started babbling as soon as he opened the door, even as she ducked under his arm and into the genkan. "I know it's late and you just this minute got home, but - I mean it's not like I was _waiting_ or anything," she said, even though she was, well, not specifically (that is, she was working on her manga and just happened to be listening for the elevator, too, it's not like she couldn't do both at the same time). "I don't have to stay, I just kinda wanted to see you- I mean, say good night and all…" She dug the toe of one sneaker into the heel of the other one, not quite removing her shoes, unsure if the step would be presumptuous or not.

She knew Mamoru must be tired, his hair was slightly mussed and his tie was undone, as were the first few buttons of his shirt. Usagi didn't realize she'd pulled her lower lip into her mouth until her teeth grazed against it.

Finally able to get a word in edgewise, Mamoru answered, "You can come in, if you want." He hadn't moved much further back into the apartment yet, and although they weren't touching, Usagi was gleeful in his nearness. She removed her shoes and made to prance past him, but paused when his hand lifted to her face. The caress of his thumb along her cheek, his fingers along her chin, was tender enough that it made her eyes flutter closed even as her heart beat faster. In response, she lifted her chin for a kiss and he obliged, brushing his mouth against hers, warm and urgent and wanting.

With a delighted squeak that Usagi barely bothered to swallow, she bounced to her tip-toes and grasped his shirt in her fists, pulling him down slightly pushing herself up, her lips opening enthusiastically under his, the force of her movement almost knocking him off balance. His hands found their way to her waist, his palms a gentle centering presence, both steadying and exciting her with their warmth through the thin fabric of her dress.

She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, letting one hand curl through the silky hair at the nape of his neck, fingernails running along his scalp. They kept kissing, long and deep and barely time in between for breathing, her tongue stroking his, then slipping into his mouth to taste him, warm like chocolate. With a soft grunt he lifted her up, off the floor, and her legs wound around his waist automatically, hissing a bit as his belt buckle scratched the tender flesh of her thigh, his hands flexing around the shape of her buttocks as he held her.

And then he'd carried her to the bedroom, and she was laid among the expensive sheets that smelled of him, the dusky orange of the city light through the windows, the shadows dancing off windows and mirrors, his room. And he was next to her, raining kisses on her cheeks, her neck, his fingertips tracing her arms, her hair, murmuring her name like he couldn't believe she was real.

"Come on…" she managed to murmur, mouth against his throat, lips aching with the need to keep tasting him, protesting the distance as she pulled away. "You must be tired…" His hand trailed along her arm as she sat up, his skin warm and tempting like the soft sheets of his bed. "I can come back tomorrow…"

His fingers curled through her hair, his eyes looking up through tousled bangs, heavy-lidded and dark. "You could stay."

And god, she wanted to. Leaning for a kiss, she melted into warm lips and salt skin and those trembling, worshipful fingertips… "Won't you think…" she breathed, pulled back a bit to look at him, "I'm pushing you too fast…?" She was always the steamroller, always the proverbial hare in the fable, rushing and jumping and crashing and burning. This was so important, so precious, so special and delicate and real and what if-

Mamoru caught her face in his hand and kissed her again, long and soft, in a way that made her stomach drop. "Nine years, Usako," he reminded her, then, against her mouth.

His teeth pressed against her lower lip and she opened her mouth to the sweep of his tongue, and let herself fall back into his cradled hold, lowered onto the bed beneath him.

This time, there was no embarrassment or awkwardness when his arousal pressed into Usagi's belly, and she was free to revel in the aching pleasure that came from sliding herself against it, and the strangled moan that she could elicit from his throat. She melted into the warmth of his bed, this same place she'd slept alone all those nights ago, as he pined outside the door, the place where now the weight of his body pressed along hers as she arched up to him, his hands on her breasts, on her thighs, sliding across her belly… his breath coming in hitches and soft moans with each new trail along her skin. Inexplicably and maybe inevitably, Usagi finally felt complete.

* * *

The next morning Mamoru was halfway through his second cup of coffee and the Asahi newspaper when Usagi walked out of his room, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She was naked except for her panties and, like a modern day Lady Godiva, her hair fell across her chest and down her back. He looked at her like he'd never seen a woman before - she was the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen.

"'Morning," she said, then blinked at him. "What?"

Usagi felt the slightest bit annoyed he was already fully dressed (and showered, too, it looked like… wasn't this his day off? Weren't they supposed to wake up together and spend the morning in bed?) when she was a mess of no clothes and mussed-up hair and smudged makeup.

"N-nothing," he said, clearing his throat and looking down at his coffee mug. "Asanuma is coming by in a bit."

"Asanuma?"

"I'm really sorry," he said, looking at her pleadingly, "I didn't want him to, but he was supposed to return my key ages ago and he's been putting it off for some reason and…" Mamoru spun his phone toward him on the counter and shook his head disbelievingly, "... he's in the neighborhood today and stopping by in a few minutes."

Usagi didn't seem upset; in fact there was a gleam in her eye that Mamoru might have found concerning, except that then she nuzzled up for a good morning kiss (or two, or three…) and oh, her hair felt so good slipping along her bare skin… The harsh sound of the buzzer was like a cold shower, and Mamoru silently cursed Asanuma even as he politely pressed the intercom to invite him in the building.

Soon enough, Mamoru was making small talk with his younger friend in the genkan, hoping his body language was enough to keep Asanuma from coming in and making himself at home, when Usagi emerged from where she'd darted into the bedroom with an "eep!" at the buzzer a few minutes ago.

"Asanuma! I thought I heard your voice!" Usagi clapped her hands in delight, a dimpled grin across her lovely face. "Hi again!"

Turning to face her, Asanuma's jaw dropped and his face instantly turned beet red. Mamoru's mouth fell open, too, slightly, at Usagi's choice of garment.

She'd apparently decided to make her appearance in Mamoru's shirt, buttoned to the top, which fell to just above her knee (longer than the mini-dress she'd worn over the night before but still somehow it felt so much more revealing).

"Tsu-tsukino-san, uh. Hi." He bowed and she returned the greeting, twisting a strand of loose hair around her finger. Asanuma's eyes darted from Usagi, to Mamoru, to the bedroom door, and back again.

"Thanks for returning the spare key," Mamoru said, as Usagi walked behind him into the kitchen and poured herself a mug of coffee - something which Mamoru had literally never seen her drink in her entire life.

"S-sure…" he looked like he wanted to say something else, thought the better of it, closed his mouth, and then looked at Usagi again, who was blowing on her coffee with a wrinkled nose. "Are y-"

"Yup."

"Okay, then. Well. Um. Bye."

"See you soon, Asanuma," Mamoru said. Usagi blew a kiss.

He turned to look at her after the door closed. "Do I want to know what that was about?"

Usagi abandoned her coffee and sat on the sofa, slinging her long legs over the armrest and watching the colorful fish swim by in the tank. "Nah, probably not."

He shook his head. "Motoki is gonna be so pissed he wasn't the first to know."

* * *

In hindsight, Mamoru considered, it really shouldn't be a surprise that in bed, Usagi could be loud, uninhibited, made to scream his name, head thrown back against his headboard, blonde hair strewn across his sheets, a sheen of sweat across her skin, voice as piercing and demanding and vibrating as when she yelled at TV dramas or squealed in delight over food, only this time it was aimed at him, and begged in breathless, deafening timbre to _not stop, never stop, oh god, Mamo-chan, YES..._

If it bothered 11A, he never said anything about it.

There was, however, the issue of 11C.

"Oh! Welcome back," Mamoru said, formally. He bowed and Tawase Yui bowed back, the many beads around her neck clicking together as she did so. "How was China?" He took his key from his pocket but didn't yet unlock his door, continuing to make small talk in the hallway.

"It was very nice, thank you. Just what I needed for inspiration." Tawase smoothed her bohemian maxi dress with her hand.

"Okay, done!" Usagi stumbled out of Tawase's apartment, in cutoffs and a tank top, wiping her forehead. "You are all unpacked and organized, and I'll be by tomorrow morning with your dry-cleaning and a black coffee. Then we'll be back at the studio for storyboarding?" She had her cell phone out and was tapping in it, brows furrowed.

"Chiba-san, this is my assistant, Tsukino. She's been apartment-sitting for me while I was traveling," Tawase said to Mamoru, and Usagi looked up and noticed he was there for the first time, blinked in surprise.

"Yes, we've meet," he said. From behind Tawase's back, Usagi shot him a 'what was that?' expression - she loved her boss, but Tawase could be a bit odd. How could she figure Usagi could live next door to someone for six months and not have met them?

"I hope she wasn't a bother," Tawase continued, politely. "She might be less quiet than I am."

"That is true," Mamoru said and Usagi's mouth dropped open in an offended little 'o'.

"I suppose I should've given my neighbors more warning," Tawase sighed, "since Tsukino is so young, perhaps you could have been on the lookout for parties and boyfriends accidentally setting the kitchen on fire…"

"To be fair, the fire was put out very quickly," Mamoru said.

Usagi buried her face in her hands.

"Well, thank you for taking care in my absence," Tawase said, bowing one last time and saying her goodbyes to Usagi before closing the door behind her.

Usagi turned daggers to Mamoru. "You're dead to me," she said, tossing one ponytail over her shoulder as she pressed the elevator button. Mamoru pocketed his key again, laughing and walked over to his girlfriend's side.

"C'mon, what would you have said?"

"Well I wouldn't have mentioned the fire!" she whirled and pouted.

"Is this something dessert will fix?" he asked, a smile pulling on his lips.

"It better be a dang good dessert," Usagi added, turning around again and crossing her arms.

"Should we order in?"

Suddenly Usagi's face went slack, and she looked at Mamoru in horror. "You have to move to a new place."

"What? Why?"

"Mamo-chan, you live next door to my _boss_. Your bedroom wall is her living room wall."

The elevator came and Usagi stepped onto it. Mamoru followed, considering.

"You could just be a little quieter, you know," he said.

"Is that what you want?" she asked him, looking up challengingly.

"Oh, god. I have to move."

The elevator doors closed on Usagi's smug nod.


End file.
